It wasn’t like this, twenty thousand tomorrows ago.

When we sat down for supper mama would say.

“Don’t Sop the Biscuit Crumbs there’s plenty more from where those come from”.

“We look Poor but we’re not, your papa’s the winner, he fills the pot”.

Mr. O there’s no need to tell us, and all that we must do.

            There were many, many others before, and now we take care of you.

You’ll lavish in the big white house, your children will Double Dutch with joy.

Four Christmas tomorrows, or maybe more, still young, and many, many more toy.

The history you’ve made is so very true, and time will surely tell.

But never ever forget my friend I am history long before you.

When I hear you speak, and the twitch I’ve seen,

What can this really mean!

For more than fourteen thousand tomorrows ago

Say you stood the only king. Let history be yours and not take from others.

You must wait for what you are not.

The history of twenty thousand tomorrows ago,

             Are the people that fill the pot!