Yorick's Skull
Sitting atop a tower, the man looks down Surveys all before him, with a vile disgust People going back and forth, surviving And getting by The man walks down the tower Judging all who come near Making sure their eyes are downcast To the dirt and grime To his well-maintained gardens, he walks Passing aspersions to those growing the food Determining the people of being low worth For they work in mud and slime Through the village, he now walks Gasping at the stench of bodies in toil Knowing they all work for him With little to no pay for their toil The man yells at the youth in the streets Irritated that there are so many In clothes tattered in torn Uneducated, with no hope or future Miserable and worn out, the man returns To sit upon his chair on the top of the tower Unable to find anyone his equal Until upon his head rests the skull of Yorick
