Idler be not proud
Thy ire irk nobody
Jack ass you make thyself
The joke itch the ego and cell thy custody
Thou art trained with a jack-boot
Rich man he is
It is he the idler frays.
Idler be not proud
Till the soil for harvest
Summon thy article to agora
and thou art thyself
With bucks in thee thou art a man
Then be proud like a minister
Thou art now a V.I.P.
Idler be not proud
Thy life is fruitless
Reform thyself like a custard
For a life in elysian is non-stop
Idler thy life is in danger.
Mukhtar S. Wakeel
EDITOR’S NOTE
Originally published in Citizen on 23 May 1994, p. 37. This diplomatic transcription preserves the wording and lineation visible in the archived page.