Rudd the dud is wondering
If he should bother to help,
But his rich mates keep telling him
”The poor can help themselves!”
”Don’t help those poor bastards
”They’re bound to somehow cope!”
But to the poor, his meanderings
Make Ruddy a bloody joke.
He’s not sure if his Masters
Will let him help the poor,
The stupid, worthless bastard
Just doesn’t know the bloody score.
To Rudd it’s so confusing
He’s not sure whether to help,
So Ruddy keeps on musing
And the poor must help themselves.
We’re starving in the gutters
While Ruddy lives in doubt,
All he does is mutter
But muttering won’t help out.
So Rudd the dud continues
To hesitate to do anything,
The poor have cat food on their menues
Still, that helps them go on living.
© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts, Melbourne, Australia
© Copyright 2016 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.
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