Where have you gone, my Bobby, my boy,
where, oh where are you bound?
The masters of greed have their hands on
You're nowhere to be found.
Your body is here, my Bobby, my
I see it every day;
But your soul has gone into slavery
cannot get away.
They have you there, my Bobby, my
And keep you for their gold;
Just as in days of
Your life has been bought and sold.
The masters of greed, my Bobby, my
Have neither love nor pity;
They run your block, your
They run every town and city.
They'll sell you things, my Bobby, my
You cannot do without;
And when you've paid all you can
They'll laugh and spit you out.
And those who love you, Bobby, my
And those whom you love, and I,
What can we do, my dearest
But weep and watch you die?
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon