I wasn’t yet born but certainly have read,
about all of the people who ended up dead.
Jumping from buildings, guns to head,
high rollers, of course had made their own bed.
Banks by the dozen beginning to close,
and the ones that stayed open began to foreclose.
Poverty it seems, does trickle down,
unlike the riches of so much renown.
Dust bowl migrations, a million Tom Joads,
led by starvation, took to the roads.
Pushed off their land, farms and homesteads,
families faced futures of uncertain dread.
Does no one remember those days gone by?
Perhaps it’s the history books that have lied.
But history’s the one thing you cannot belie
if you don’t want another wild, wild ride.