Up goes the price of our bread-- <br />Up goes the cost of our caking! <br />People must ever be fed; <br />Bakers must ever be baking. <br />So, though our nerves may be quaking, <br />Dumbly, in arrant despair, <br />Pay we the crowd that is taking <br />All that the traffic will bear. <br /> <br />Costly to sleep in a bed! <br />Costlier yet to be waking! <br />Costly for one who is wed! <br />Ruinous for one who is raking! <br />Tradespeople, ducking and draking, <br />Charge you as much as they dare, <br />Asking, without any faking, <br />All that the traffic will bear. <br /> <br />Roof that goes over our head, <br />Thirst so expensive for slaking, <br />Paper, apparel, and lead-- <br />Why are their prices at breaking? <br />Yet, though our purses be aching, <br />Little the traffickers care; <br />Getting, for chopping and steaking, <br />All that the traffic will bear. <br /> <br />L'ENVOI <br /> <br />Take thou my verses, I pray, King, <br />Letting my guerdon be fair. <br />Even a bard must be making <br />All that the traffic will bear.<br /><br />Franklin P. Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-the-traffickers/
