In these hard times some still acquire
Great wealth and all that they desire;
The rest of us must simply go
Where we are carried by the flow
And watch our deep-held dreams expire.
The banker claims he’s worth his hire,
Yet daily he is proved a liar
By all the billions that we owe
In these hard times.
And as the favoured few conspire
To keep their fat out of the fire,
We mourn our children: they, we know,
Will reap this wretched crop we sow.
We’ve been sold out – but who’s the buyer
In these hard times?
Still getting to grips with the rondeau form, but really enjoying the work: it’s certainly given me a whole new appreciation of the craft, as well as the beauty, in John McCrae’s timeless elegy In Flanders Fields. N.