give me the money oh give me the money i need it to buy my daily bread and i have no-one who can help except the hoard you hold in your establishment's coffers - i have cap in hand, i tremble, i fear, i hate you for making me be so inferior and your quizzical glances and hardened hearts have me in mortal terror of poverty, no roof and food that many people unluckier than me have to stave-off for real day after daynext poem