Father, Dear!
Get ready!
We have to go;
No job here,
No charity,
The Master has said so…

No busses.
No trains.
Can we ever get airplanes?
A cart of beggars,
I’ve fit with our dog chains,
I’ll pull you home bearing pains…

As the son said,
The father understood,
The play of the Fate;
Sitting resigned,
All odds withstood,
Son began the eternal skate…