The Beast

 The statesmen-hirelings its favour seek. And the world's news is under its control; Great are the powers of the mighty clique That owns the slaving peoples, body and soul. Down in its shops and offices and streets The toilers struggle, sullen, underpaid, And pinch-faced poverty proud Plutus meets, And pimps and harlots ply their wretched trade. And in its gorgeous halls where gold holds sway ​The smirking mother offers her young daughter To haughty men for whom all women are play Or babes, or ornaments, or sheep for slaughter: Its system makes men parasites or brutes And tends to make all women prostitutes.