Whinings
Rude Whinings
It almost seems like whining
To complain about the food.
Or the medical in prison,
Overcrowding? just plain rude!
I suppose to be objective
One would need a second group --
A control, I think they call it.
That's the ticket to straight poop.
What if one group, say, the inmates,
All come down with terr'ble coughs
Hacking uncontrolled while sniffling?
Hear that? "Nonsense!" someone scoffs.
"Everybody gets a runny nose.
"It's flu time, don't you see?
"Most cons refused their flu shots
"Think vaccine? Conspiracy!"
Hold on, cowboy, take a chill pill!
What if in this other group
Who breathe the air and walk the halls,
But eat a different soup --
I haven't heard a single cough!
No sniffles. Count 'em: None!
Ya think that this stark contrast
Might persuade? If only one --
To believe there's something to the claims
That maybe there's some truth
To the whining claims (between the coughs).
We're quickly trading youth
For old age before our time should come
For homeless-looking teeth
For sunken eyes and withered loins
And hollow souls beneath.
There is a group that coexists
With we, the not so few,
Who aren't denied good medical
And eat well -- that they do!
We see them half a dozen times
Throughout our dismal day.
They're called COs but seldom cough
Some smoke though. Seems they may.