The Immigrants

The Immigrants

 

By

 

Elton Camp

 

Mexican man, father of three

Feed, clothe them would he.

A job is not to be found.

Not in his own hometown.

 

To the north he will go

Jobs to get, it is so.

Cross here you cannot do

Those who welcome are few

 

Beyond the Rio Grande

Lies a virtual promised land

He must ignore the rule

Give his life unto a mule

 

Pay over his last peso

On the mule’s own say so.

Into a van we pack

Food & water lack

 

Across the miles of barren dirt

Perhaps killed, surely hurt.

If lucky and not be caught,

He may find the work he sought.

 

If tax he dares to pay

The INS will come his way

The demand is very hard

Where is your green card?

 

We find your morals low & weak

Because English you cannot speak

To hear you talk Spanish

We deem to be outlandish

 

We hate the darkness of your skin

Never can you be an equal friend

Why are you so short?

For that, we will deport

 

You may not live on our street

The likes of you we will not meet

You might keep a filthy house

Running over with lice and mouse

 

But if to work you are able

We might pay you under the table

Your wages will be low

Or out the door you go

 

Expect our mocking taunt

And take the jobs we don’t want

Remember your own place

Or leave here in all disgrace

 

Illegal alien, full of sin

No way that you can win

When jobs for you do lack

We’ll send you packing back

 

Come work here no more

For we have shut the door

The border closed to you so tight

Can’t be crossed without a fight

 

Arizona has shown the way

To keep such as you at bay

Should be true in every state

Immigrants we all so hate. 


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Synopsis
About the problem of illegal immigration.
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