HARVEST FEAST

A table loaded with succulent choices
Roast meat and pies, November fayre
A generous feast, and is fit for a King
But it’s our kind of people here instead
There are millions without daily bread
Such misery that starvation can bring
There’s little sensitivity to such despair
As from afar I still hear hungry voices

Feasting is all about joyful celebrations
It’s not what eaten, but what is wasted
But remember those who have no food
Slender hopes of their family surviving
With little chance timely food arriving
No need for shame, nor regretful mood
Nor mouthfuls being bitter when tasted
Just support for those distant relations