Requime for the Wa Class

When they charge they fall,
When they pray they’re crushed,
For a ticket to heaven, they die.

How lucky is the middle (of Black and White);
They can people power and blog,
They even have perks and jobs.
And “we know how to line up.”

So, when Karl, Jhay and Jon head home
They have a living room
To muse in CNN some punditry,
Or spar with Ricky and mlq3.

Oh well, can’t the Unwashed just elect
Their own Harry, Dick and Tom
Then, for themselves build as the heavenly deck
Of some taipans like Lucio Tan
(no, no, not the Heaven their Prelate promises ever happily
After they fell, crushed, and died, so unmannerly)?

Lo, if old Leonie (remember?) or Garci (or Davide?) can’t count,
Who can they count on?
When their champion gets a bagful from the lords,
Who can they count on?
And when the “righteous” is content posting a hymn (like this),
Who can they count on?

How simple! How foolhardy! How blight!
To fight for a ticket to heaven
As of the Old, untamed and mighty.
Poor, dumb Wa Class! Dead, crushed and fallen
Before they could fight.

Classless Heaven awaits them, so they pray.
Amen.