A pile of dirt dressed up in a mountain’s clothing
A working man’s pile of rocks
but a ball and chain for the drowning man
a bucket of cement spilled across flowering dirt
but the girl is known for crying wolf
so a mountain has become a molehill
while the dogs come at the blow of whistle
tearing and biting at scraps of meat
slavering mouths that consume
the yellow pages of journalist notes
as a foremen brings the hammer down
the coal burns hotter than any other fuel
but oil is expensive these days
worth more than the average dollar
now that’s a molehill mountain
dressed in expensive leather for the fire
a working man’s pile of coal
the color of lungs is worth
the switch from red to black
more money for the non-worker
whose check balances with zeros lined in gold
this mountains nothing more than a molehill
pick yourself up by your bootstraps
