We Peasants Poem by Jack Rolph

We do not claim to be so wise
as to question kings that rise,
for we are meek before the sword
that carves the will of its grand lord,
yet we peasants can recall
each and every monarch's fall,
for ever shall they seek to clasp
all that lay beyond their grasp.

Our stories shall strain out of thought,
for humble legacies are naught,
but we peasants harvest all we sow:
through wind and rain and sun and snow,
and in the fields and countryside
over which grand lords preside,
we let our betters spread their weeds
while we are busy planting seeds.

Time turns dynasties to dust
as crowns of iron turn to rust;
we peasants watch the world unfold,
while standing in our fields of gold.