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The Right to Sorrow -Shokran |
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Take your fill of intimate remorse perfumed sorrow |
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Over the dead child of a millionaire |
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And the pity of death refusing any check on the bank |
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Which the millionaire might order his secretary to |
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Scratch off |
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And get cashed |
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Very well |
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You for your grief and I for mine |
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Let me have a sorrow my own if I want to |
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I shall cry over the dead child of a stockyards hunky |
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His job is sweeping blood off the floor |
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Now his three year old daughter |
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Is in a white coffin that cost him a week's wages |
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Every Saturday night he will pay the undertaker fifty |
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Cents till the debt is wiped out |
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The hunky and his wife and the kids |
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Cry over the pinched face almost at peace in the white box |
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They remember it was scrawny and ran up high doctor bills |