Things will be very different
when good fortune fades away,
and, when you see their shrunken bellies,
you search for your loved-ones’ bread.
You will be like the newcomer
scavenging at the rubbish dumps
and sleeping under bridges
while bright lights shine above.
You had forgotten
the citizenry of old
that tied famine round its neck
and shackled work to servitude.
You’ll suffer unthinkable privations
to hold down paltry jobs
with excellence and care
that no native worker wants.
We all travel in the same ship
that rises and falls with the tides.
Gold is a vain ambition
for tomorrow it may all be gone.
Yes; may it never happen to you.