Classic Poem

Dearth of common sense:
The iron hand of Drought
Is heavy on the land;
Women weep over their hungry children;
While our well-fed statesmen
Loll drowsily on comfortable benches,
Like sleepy dassies sunning themselves
Amongst the high rocks:
Drowsily and long they loll,
Then suddenly they start up
And, with animation and anger,
With drums and tramplings of hollow oratory,
With rage, spite and venom,
They discuss—flags!
The children cry for bread,
And our amiable statesmen
Give them—a flag.