Morris Rosenfeld

the groans of slaves, when they are tired
awake my bitter songs
it’s only when I’m inspired
I reckon up their wrongs

don’t look for me where fountains splash!
Not there, my darling, shall I be
where tears are shed, where teeth are gnashed
that’s the only place for me

there’s steam and smoke and madness here
there’s no place for a guest to stand
I can’t so much as touch you, dear
for I have hired out my hand
Be careful! I’m a lion, sir!Don’t play your games with me
for all I have to do is stir
and mincemeat’s what you’ll be