Frankly that doesn’t sound honest. Especially when picture of guillotines are sent by the same crowd. Even more considering that wealthy people are not going to volunteer their wealth through reasonable debate.
Apparently this might have been created recently, even though the phrase goes back at least a few hundred years. Here’s a transcription of the one I was talking about though:
“We are starving. There is no more bread, and we have nothing to eat.”
The rich man said,
“Not my problem you don’t work for your bread,”
as if he did not snatch away the grain by his own greedy hands and create filling bread for his own overflowing mouth.
The poor cried,
“We are dying. There is no more medicine, and we’re all ill.”
The rich man said,
“Not my problem you don’t take care of yourselves,”
as if he did not buy all the medicine and raise prices so high
Maybe it is but I always took it as “let’s take their money and redistribute the wealth.”
Frankly that doesn’t sound honest. Especially when picture of guillotines are sent by the same crowd. Even more considering that wealthy people are not going to volunteer their wealth through reasonable debate.
It comes from a poem. It’s very literal
What poem if you don’t mind me asking?
Apparently this might have been created recently, even though the phrase goes back at least a few hundred years. Here’s a transcription of the one I was talking about though:
“We are starving. There is no more bread, and we have nothing to eat.”
The rich man said,
“Not my problem you don’t work for your bread,”
as if he did not snatch away the grain by his own greedy hands and create filling bread for his own overflowing mouth.
The poor cried,
“We are dying. There is no more medicine, and we’re all ill.”
The rich man said,
“Not my problem you don’t take care of yourselves,”
as if he did not buy all the medicine and raise prices so high
the gods themselves would not
be able to reach.
The poor people
stopped crying,
and the rich man was satisfied…
Until they came knocking at his door one night;
their faces were sunken,
their flesh decaying,
their eyes sightless.
They were monsters
of the rich man’s
own making.
As they devoured his flesh,
the rich man cried,
“Please, spare me!”
The ravenous zombies said,
“Not our fault
you fattened yourself
for slaughter.”