A mother gave birth in 1856,
She was alone and lived out in the sticks.
After a lot of pain and struggle, she gave birth to a boy,
With some deliberation later she called him Roy.
They lived alone in the middle of a wood,
Happy and content doing the best they could.
Roy grew up to be a fine young man,
Working a small piece of arable land.
Their small little house and small little land,
Was surrounded by property owned by a rich little man.
He, a silver spoon millionaire, wanted to expand,
So the tyrant he was, forced his hand.
He offered them pittance to give up all they had,
Or, he warned them, if he wanted he could be very bad.
Even with the warning they declined not wishing to sell,
The rich little man paid some men to go and cause hell.
This they did without regret,
Leaving them homeless as she sat by and wept.
The son, who had gone to town,
Found his mother outside, dressed in a torn gown.
Battered and bruised she told him what they’d done,
How they destroyed all they had as if it was fun.
Angry and upset he stormed up to the man’s mansion,
Shouting and screaming, thumping the door with a passion.
The butler opened the door and tried not to let him in,
But Roy was forceful and managed to bypass him.
Seeing the rich little man in the corner, he headed straight for,
Not seeing the police and aristocrats that mingled by the door.
They beat Roy with all they had,
Then tied him up at the back.
The rich little man with the aristocrats and police,
Put a gun to his head and counted to three.
Roy slumped over, blood rushing,
The rich little man said, “Isn’t this touching?”
They carted the body away to his destroyed home,
Where they dumped him by his mother, who was on her own.
The mother collapsed, died, watched on by the rich little man,
Knowing he had got his precious little land.
Surplus rhymes from 'Elias Zapple's Rhymes from the Cabbage Patch' that were sitting, gathering dust and getting mouldy.