The burdened horse rode the road lonely;
The donkey’s back saddled for stretches;
Riveting canoe, fluctuating, rides upstream
Now the despising stab and wound and pain.
Whither the sustenance save this paps strained?
Whither the dryness save this integument drenched?
Whither the defense save this rampart worn?
Now this shameless ingrate sings-a-ling.
The rat, the big rat in my house dug a hole,
I asked for more, no, many more holes,
For none tomorrow’s dangers tell
Nor the hasty stampede moderate
When chickens come home to roost.
Who feeds you
When you bite the finger that feeds you?
Who in cold covers you
When you fast-fling the warming quilt?
Who buoys you
When you bid the benevolent buoy bye?
Think ingrate!
Ingrafted ingrate think again, again!
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