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Landfill

The good luck son kept attention,
he kept his composure and he kept gripes mum,
succession won but kin outdone
he cast over crowds with a megaphone gun saying:

Landfill this till its one big hill, consign it to dust,
raze it down and raise it up as something we can trust

The good luck son, election won,
performs on the lawns while the pawns look on
their spokesperson, said relation,
he voiced their opinion and he urged action:

Landfill this till its one big hill, consign it to dust,
raze it down and raise it up as something we can trust.

He said,
“People need direction like a convict needs a key,
like all you jailors need some prison
to remind you to be free.”

The good luck son, alarm bells rung,
he charged certain agents to un-wag that tongue
of dissension, and just for fun
he called to his people with a new slogan:

Landfill this till its one big hill, consign it to dust,
raze it down and raise it up as something we can trust.



© W Cargill