Amin, Amin, Heath’s Prince Charming,
How does your status grow?
With shrieking shells,
Black torture cells
And bloody men all in a row.
Doctor Foster went to Gloucester
Fighting the elm disease;
But landlord and peasant
Grab all from the present
And murder tomorrow - and trees.
Nit-skin, black man, have you found some work?
Yes sir, yes sir, all you shirk;
Doing all the dirty work, flushing out the drain,
When you’ve bled me almost white
You’ll sell my soul again.
Poor boy, white man, are you on the dole?
Yes sir, yes sir, that’s my goal;
Stinkin’ niggers do the work I’m too good to do;
I buy fags and motor cars
With love from you.
(hatched
August/September, 1972)
