The corn came marching

He knew that things were well

he knew that things were good

until the corn came marching

out from Birnam Wood

The wanderer had plainly told him

all life would be well and good

unless the corn came marching

out from Birnam Wood

He stole his brother’s farm

he stole his father’s food

and still no corn came marching

out from Birnam Wood.

He turned widows out from houses

and orphans from their rooms

and laughed at the corn not marching

out from Birnam Wood.

Interest he squeezed and loans he sucked

from neighbors until they cried;

the corn did not come marching

out from Birnam Wood.

How long, O Lord, how long,

Have these evils you withstood?

And still no corn came marching

Out from Birnam Wood.

The more he controlled, the more he gained

and taken more he would,

until the day the wanderer came

in a bus out of Birnam wood.

And he saw, at last, corn marching,

corn marching to where he stood.

In rows the corn came marching

out from Birnam Wood.

Tweetspeak Poetry has a poetry and photo prompt based on the picture above. Actually, there is a choice of prompts. Visit the site and see what you might do.

Photograph by Robb North, Creative Commons, via Flickr.