Whipper Snapper

Timmy was a cheerful slave
Who snapped his fingers all day long
He could not sing or whistle or dance
But his walking and snapping were their very own song.

Paul, he was a slave driver
Who snapped only his whip.
He didn’t want to hear music
Nor any back-talking lip.

Timmy and Paul were rivals of sorts,
Trying to out-snap the other,
Paul whipped and screamed, Timmy snapped and dreamed
And neither cried “Uncle” or “Mother.”

And Paul’s arm got tired
Of all the abuse
And forced the whipper
To stop its use,

But Timmy’s hands
Never wore out
For his snaps gave him strength
Paul knew nothing about.

So which man was the slave?
The snapper serene
Or the whipper, obsessed
With the need to be mean?

No man is a slave
If he choose not to be,
For the consent of the oppressed
Is what makes a slave be.