Socialism
Our shackles now, were broken chains,
Open wide the prison gates.
And so began the break up
of bourgeois tribal nation states.
“The world is ours”, the workers cried.
Capitalism, fought dirty, lost and died.
As past went by its funeral bus
The epilogue was read out thus:
‘Its candle burnt at both ends bright.
Short its life but what a light.
In its youthful hey day,
Accomplished wonders unsurpassed.
Demented in its death throws.
Nothing’s ever born to last.’
As the drums began to roll.
The class it had produced,
Now dug it’s burial hole.
Millions danced upon the grave,
Blew up the bus and had a rave.
If History spoke in volumes
We’d still be on page one,
The anarchy was over
A new day had begun.
Life went on come shine and rain
Yet wasn’t such a dreadful strain.
Some did sport, Sats and Sundays
Then back to work again on Mondays
Unemployment took a dive
You had to work to stay alive!
Except for the aged and infirm,
Take the needed rest you’ve earned.
Religion was a private question.
You could worship whom you pleased
Standing up or on your knees!
(The churches had their assets siezed.)
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