Your Mother’s Eyes, Your Father’s Chin

^[1]136 words

When you kneel down to feed the poor
they’ve got to have your mother’s eyes,
your father’s chin. Spurn, curse the Moor.

Muhammad scornful to the core
dreams of a Euro Paradise
when you kneel down to feed the poor.

Stupidity is not a cure.
Look at the anger in their eyes,
hate in their mouths. Spurn, curse the Moor. 

The haughty Mullah can say more,
on the blond beach, a lord of flies,
when you kneel down to feed the poor.

Lock the front gate and bolt the door,
defend your blood, pray to the skies,
to Mars or Thor. Spurn, curse the Moor.

Love not thy foe, defiant, sure,
you have been fed a pack of lies.
When you kneel down to feed the poor
think of your own. Spurn, curse the Moor.