“A modest proposal for preventing the children of poor people in Ireland from being a burden to their parents or country, and for making them beneficial to the public”
The Irish problem could be solved, there’s quite a simple cure,
By dining on the offspring of the nation’s poor.
Oven-ready babies could be sold when weaned,
They’d fetch a fortune so I‘m told; ten shillings maybe more.
He’s running the four hundred and the four by four
Fate dealt a cruel cruel blow, not set back by that score
With a buffalo’s grit, the heart of ten lions
we’ll see him compete with fellow Olympians
There is of course, more to The Games, than just winning
respect, treatment as a fellow human being
I’m sure he’ll reminisce as he grows old
of that day, he pulled on the green and gold