'Why should he live off the fat of the land?'
Ask the laborer and the unlettered
With hard currency all they understand
'How lives a man so duty-unfettered?'
Concrete and dollars, for them that is work
Whispish ideas and words don't stack up
He who pursues airy whims is a shirk
On horse of Life his foot missed the stirrup
How could they see the real effort involved
In bucking the very bronco of Life
I must needs be sufficiently evolved
To make Art out of their ignoble strife
To construe from Life some Higher Meaning
I repay all the fat I am gleaning.
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