One thousand leeches suck the blood of America.
Weigh them and find them wanting.
Liquidate them.
Grind them up into meat,
And let them feed the hungry.

What I want is for every dirty, lousy tramp
To eat his fill.
To fatten his belly;
Let it not be a war,
But a packinghouse line.
Let their pleading 
Be answered by a form letter.

Two thousand maggots gorge on the world.
Take back what they stole
From those who hunger and are not fed,
Those who are cold and are not clothed.
Drop the bombs on soft, pampered heads
And melt the flesh from their bones.

Let them learn what it is,
As they burn,
To beg.