Farming so hard in the dirt of anger, starving, I wish I could find happiness by pushing comrade Snitch from Peking into the pig sty but it's just a daydream that I'd spit in his stymied eye when he says, because my wife has a cold we can't go to market without coughing up a bribe He's sick like the chickens limps like a duck, but I'm too poor to cook a Peking duck so I'll cure him with a little bacon lean and taxes on my back for that fat one to waddle back to the Flu Bureau My son went to the city where he searched for bits chanted in the Mayor's parade the slogan "We love peaches", but he posted something modern disappeared. I don't post signs. I still don't know what it is I'm to tell no one 'cause I just wish I could get to Hong Kong ring a gong for joy run wild like a chicken without a head for business in cherry blossoming times where red sin is mine gleeful dreams true at last happiness like hidden giggling girls allowed to live without a dowry finding me charming and as generous as I would've wished to be had I known freedom Flying Without Feather Ado
