The Weak And The Strong Poem by Marlin Nightingale

The weak may die and the strong may stand,
Yet I tell ye souls of this here land,
That strong might stay; yes, he may avail,
But here the weak are the favored still.
Why are they favored? Again ye ask.
Let me take a swig from my crystal flask,
And commence to tell as a raconteur,
Why the weak are favored and why I'm sure.

The strong, my friend, have many a foe,
Yes, tho they strong as oxen grow,
And when they fall they usually land,
Upon their rear in the silty sand.
As for the weak, that's where they begin,
Up to the ears in trials and sin,
No one to help and no one to teach,
Yet making friends by his humble speech.