He is a short sunburnt gentleman, a farmer of the fields!
A landlord with servants at his beck and call, but now has
Been promoted, to manage an organisation, with the tact
And skill he is renowned to have in the field! And he sets
Up a coterie of acolytes to report on comings and goings!
One he calls his toadstool while another, his footstool, the
Other, “my man,” the fourth becomes a masseur,the
Fifth his errands boy! He grants statuses and titles
According to the level of flattery they accord to him!
All hang on to his words like their lives depend on him!
He's the very image of benevolence, in his hands holding
A holy-book, all the while, showering prayer‘n’ blessing,
As he plots and schemes, the downfall of those that don’t
Fawn and defer to him! For such, is the heart of him,
Who feels good with flatterers of all kinds all around him!
But, alas, those that fawn and bow might not true be,
For all their loyalty and servitude might forced be!
While they bow down in servitude, and humility they
Might be laughing at a man who thought himself a great
Veritable Lord! But, alas! all treat him as a jester great!
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