Pity the poor who strive for a crust,
Through no fault of theirs they are ground in the dust.
Pity them struggling by desperate means,
And having to queue for handouts; such scenes
Should melt stone hearts of the rich with their graces,
And open the eyes of those in high places.
Is this what they fought for in tenches so wet?
The 'Land fit for heroes' shall not be theirs yet.
Maybe their children will not know the shame
Of means-test, soup kitchens and bailiffs. The blame
Must surely lie somewhere, God knows whose the guilt.
Is this how Jerusalem has to be built?