If we decide to till our farms,
They don't care to help us with their arms
We are hungry while they are in satisfactory
Is only food we always battle for ...
Another day of toil and strife,
Another page so white,
Within that fateful Log of Life
That I and all must write;
Another page without a stain
To make of as I may,
That done, I shall not see again
Until the Judgment Day.
... Read complete poem
