This Green and Peasant Land

Where would we be, locked in this institution,

If our country had a constitution.

The shirt stamped H.M.P. says property:

Does that mean cotton cloth of weft and weave?

Or do they mean the number they perceive?

When will we see our people set up properly?

There is one bill our governor could conceive:

And that is one of rights for us to own.

From Thoreau’s scratched sapling oak has grown.

With errant lawful letters now full grown

We hold no truth to be self evident

Lost life and liberty now to lament

And happiness no right, except repent

And happiness no right, will you repent?