The Slave-Dealer
Look at these slaves! Gotta sell them all
Having a slave is the epitome of cool
Oh, their families won't miss them
And the rich just can't resist them
It's not as if... they've got feelings
It's not as if... they're human beings
And what about the money?
The money, the money, the money?
Yes!
We'll cut away their times of leisure
And become so rich beyond measure
We'll wallow in our mal-earned treasure
And steal and use their every pleasure
I spy a buyer coming near
The slaves all shrink away in fear
And so they should! He buys them all
They refuse to look back at my blood-money stall.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
The Slave-Dealer, which
was posted on Dec 3, 2011 by
NakaRisaune.
This is a collaborative poem.
About this poem
"We had to write a play about slavery. It mutated into a musical. This is the sla..."
This poem is filed under:
Simple Rhyme
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