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THE MIDDLE MEN



What do we guard with honour?
Why are we awake till the last hour,
Just to afford a cup of flour?
Your gold you fail to mine,
Yet ours, you take as thine.

In suit you apparel thy pride,
Expecting us on the other side,
To cheer you or just hide.
With poverty our dads abide,
And we hold guns in order to stride.

Protecting our only inherited gift,
The golden pod thrown in the rift,
By the deeds of a parliament,
Who gave us pepper instead of mint.

We shall defend what the middleman didn't,
Yes, we vow to protect it,
Our cherished cocoa beans,
With bare arms if not guns.

Until we send a message,
Through to the Whitehouse,
How bad our buyers massage,
Cocoa prices in skirt and blouse.

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