The Wolves of Ellis

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses,
Yearning to breathe free.

I will put these fine folks
In dark morasses,
In captivity.

Here, let me help you.
Your kids need free passes,
Some compassion, see?


     A Land of the Free
     With victim peddlers
     And grievance mongers
     Salivating openly.
     Oh the woe of it all.