The Donkey Poem by Steven Shoemaker

The Donkey

The coats the folks are throwing down
sure make it hard for me to walk
especially carrying this clown
whose feet are almost to the ground.

'Hosannah King! ' is all the talk,
but this guy seems to be as poor
as I am- no one could mistake
him for a Royal- he's just a fake!

They wave palm branches, and they roar,
but my long ears can hear the real
parade across the city square:
the General, the Priests, the score

of war horses- the whole grand deal.
This pitiful parade will fail
to save a soul, and soon the yell
will change from 'Hail! ' to...'Kill! '