To The Rich And Great

Is it by the apostle’s law That ye your brother love? Hypocrites and chatterers, Ye’re cursed of God above.

Not for your brother’s soul you care. It’s only for his skin. The skin from off his back you’d tear, Some trifling prize to win.

There’s furs for your daughter, Slippers for your wife, And things that you don’t utter About your private life.