I Don't Understand The Poor

I say, you there. Hands off that sword. Put down that book.
Isn't it enough we let you look?

I hate to dash your futile, little hopes
But you pay your sixpence
And stay behind the ropes.

I cringe when every cobbler
Or butcher
Or farmer
Comes touching my bannisters
Banging my armour.

They finger every finial
They poke your cornerstone
Who'd want to be reminded
Of what they'll never own?

Though my politics are purely democratical
I find the species frankly problematical.

I don't understand the poor
I don't understand the poor
The lives they lead
Of want and need
I should think it would be a bore.

It seems to be nothing but stubbornness
So what's all the suffering for?
To be so debased
Is in terrible taste
I don't understand the poor.

To be so debased
Is in terrible taste
I don't understand.

To summarize the heretofor
He does not understand the poor.

I don't understand the poor
And they're constantly turning out more
Ever festering slum
In Christendom
Is disgorging its young by the score.

I suppose there are some with ambition
Say the pickpocket, beggar or whore
From what I can tell
They do quite well
They're rising above
And it's work they love
But, I don't understand the poor.

They're rising above
And it's work they love
But, I don't understand the poor.

Where's the dignity? (Where's the dignity?)
Where's the pride? (Where's the pride?)
The ignominity (The ig...?)
Putting the lame and the halt aside
Why accept charity?
I am perplexed by their attitude
I contend we extend them too much latitude.

My tenants have no excuse
At Christmas I give them a goose
Where's the integrity?
Where's the gratitude?

I don't understand the poor
How I long for days of yore
When nary a vassal
Stepped into your castle
They knew not to darken your door.

Now they barge in every Tuesday
With a sickening, thickening roar
Why clatter and trample?
Set an example
We teach them to read
But do they succeed?
When they're hungry and frail
We feed them in jail
We send them off to war.

I don't understand
I'm not being grand
I don't understand the poor.

I don't understand
I'm not being grand
I don't understand...

Oh, there's one I admit I adore
He's missing a leg
But a very good egg
A gentleman through to the core.

Well, he may be a bit of a drinker
He can often be found on the floor
Through all of his pains
He never complains
He's bright and astute
A shame that he's mute
According to mother
He may be my brother
A fact we all choose to ignore.

But, I don't understand
I'm sensitive and
I don't understand the poor.

I don't understand
I'm sensitive and
I don't understand.

They're a pox on the land!
I don't understand
I don't understand
I don't understand the poor
Don't understand
Really I don't!