One rupee coin, old, pristine. <br />A culture forged and immortalised. <br />Heads the government, people self rule. <br />Tails the notation, crops and farmers, toils of truth. <br />Heads I win, tails you loose. <br />Farmers of india, half naked, full of hope, <br />Burning in the glorious sun, irrigating crops with their blood. <br />The fat lords owning acres now farm cash <br />Smoke hash <br />Sun baked, organic, farmer you measly potato, <br />Delicious we find you homely and mashed. <br />Freedom, yes, you are free, <br />Make your noose, go to the nearest tree, <br />Be free, go hang your self, <br />Be eaten alive or die your self. <br />Heads I win, tails you loose.<br /><br />Hardik Vaidya<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-farmers-of-india/
