Irises

Thinking about meaning, life, the universe, everything
And remembering the question’s answer is forty-two
Fun and silly, but, I believe, it may be onto something
The one percent, owning most of America, worry, too

Statistically I recently heard, that in another sixty years
Our wasp majority population figure will have dwindled
The exact figure I heard said only forty-two percent here
I’ll thank you not to bend, fold, mutilate or even spindle

They toil away tirelessly, on our behalf; seeking accord
Imagine anyone thinking they’d do better in their place
With fortunes acquired honestly, the money they hoard
Behind walls reside, have guards, pepper spray or mace

But, really, we must stop picking on these poor rich folk
We make them hide, but where’d we be without them
Couldn’t fight wars, or win them, omelets and egg yolks
Crash world economies, level the field, risk life and, limb

Yes, I know we are the ones daily toiling in the trenches
Someone must sit on the side to hold our standard high
Sitting, soft, custom-made, leather chairs, not benches
Simply to remind us of goods, we should want to buy

Remember the power of the magic number, forty-two
Do not denigrate the wealthy haves, it makes you a jerk
No matter how it seems, everything they do is for you
So bow politely, thank them, and then get back to work