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Feet

Listen you! This concerns us all;
Poor, wealthy, kind and cruel.
So necessary, yet so neglected;
Greatly used, poorly acknowledged.
Brain, heart, stomach and hand,
Eyes, Tongue and all manner of meat
Sacrifice your pride you lofty band
And pay what is owed to the working feet.

'Why should I hearken? ' remarks the brain,
'I am our memories, knowledge and power.
To me give your ears and from this foolishness refrain
Lest you should stray from hearing my answer.
I, the master, you, my slaves,
I am told what occurs, I tell you what to do.
Without me, you are useless knaves,
So I bid you, ignore that voice untrue! '

'Why should I care? ' purrs the small heart,
'I give our joy, our love and more,
Could you, could you really with me part?
Allow me to decide this matter as you have before.
Those twin workers never have complained,
Not a word from their soul has ever been raised,
They must be merry, for this work were they not trained?
Applaud them not; they need not be praised.'

'Why should I bother? ' belches the stomach,
'I am a worker too, very important and busy!
Yet, e'en with my lack of time, I will say this fact,
I will put these comrades back, out of their reasoning silly.
Look here, my friend, we all have our place,
Each quite noble and well scored,
So now you see by my great grace
That your motto should be: duty is its own reward.'

'Why should I pity? ' spits the hands,
'We are the same, we work alike,
There is no reason why they should grumble on crossing lands!
They are pathetic! Unable to deal with their dislike.
You should try my troublesome job,
You wouldn't tarry long I assure you,
The first challenge, a single sob,
You would be running back, back down low! '

Warned were you! This concerned us all,
Proud, deceptive, insensitive and scornful.
So necessary, yet so neglected;
Greatly used, poorly acknowledged.
Brain, heart, stomach and hand,
Eyes, Tongue and all manner of meat
Doomed you are, you lofty band
To suffer the wrath of the overworked feet!

'He cannot disobey' steams the brain,
'We thought you merry! ' screams the heart,
'This is done to rashly' tries the stomach,
'Woe approaches rapidly! ' cries the hands.
No! You were told, pleaded with and warned,
Now hear the feet in all it's anger unwound!

'Walking, hasting, running and crashing,
I was told this was the job I was given, the job I deserve;
Made this way because of my wrong-doing,
Must obey, duty the only thing left I have to preserve.
Long I did so, with obedience and commitment worked,
But I came to realise that as false words, hollow comfort!
Even now I do my work, however, a new purpose devised,
You cannot beat me any of you, I am the humble foot!

'Hasting, running, sprinting and crashing,
I lead you forward in the path I choose:
Through fire, nettle, stone and lightning
I continue, slowly winding the body deathly loose.
You cannot stop me, nor can you keep going.
Brain you are starved and heart you are faltering,
Stomach you are breaking and hands you are flailing.
You could not stop me, now you are past dying.'

Doomed are you! This destroys us all,
Proud, deceptive, insensitive and scornful.
So powerful yet so humble;
Meekest soul, never a mumble.
Brain, heart, stomach and hand,
Eyes, Tongue and all manner of meat
Ignorant at warning, you lofty band,
You are at the judgement of the mighty feet!

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