May Day

Grab your maypole and let’s protest,

Crown a spring queen and drench her

In chains, the masters treasure chest

Is full of gold and spider whispers.

 

Grab your maypole and lets dig

Butcher a spring fowl and drench it

In butter, the people deserve to jig

While blind men sing holy writ.

 

Grab your maypole and let’s stay,

Plant a picket fence and drink liqueur

Each morning. We need to decay

As proper mademoiselle and monsieur.

 

Grab your maypole and let’s protest,

Take the nepotist’s boat to the seaway

And swim in tropical waters, all soaked Sunday’s best

And sunken stolen pay.

 

Round and round,

We must be faster,

Hands in the ground

Digging graves for the master.

 

 

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