by David Ackley
This little town lost its mill
and all the folk began to wail,
“Our work has fled, our lives go ill.”
So the king in his kindness built them a jail.
For certain it is, when times are hard,
half the folk must turn to crime,
who, when they're sent to do their time,
the other half will serve to guard.
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The prison population in this country is proportionately the highest in the world: higher than China's, Russia's, Turkmenistan's, Cuba's, Pakistan's, Columbia's, Mexico's, anyone's. In today's Times, a story of an American sentenced to fifteen years (15!) for innocently possessing 7 shotgun shells. Prisons are spoken of as "an industry." Imagine.
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This is really good. *
That final line put a stone in my stomach. Very effective.
Nice.
Love it.
Oh yeah,*
The sound serves the sense so well in this.
More truth than poetry here. *
Thanks all for the generous comments.
Grim and funny. And I love the seemingly simple rhymes.