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?