A Modest Proposal, with profuse apologies to Jonathan Swift
“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.
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After much debate and heartache, Oscar’s off to the big London show
the question we ask ourselves now, how fast and far can he really go?
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