What pay is this? Some chit now long past due
to get us roundly up and out the door,
to squeeze a measly buck, redound a score,
then shuck, to gutted towns, our shell shocked crew?
Like hell you'll clear us out and push us through,
demanding, time-cards swiped, we quit the floor
and not-like peevish children-scream for more,
but take our bullied selves elsewhere for brew!
I tell you, China's coast is far from clear;
and China's sum of us is no less dim.
So go now-take your cash where it may still
win hearts and minds not scarified by beer and will
no doubt, find skillful hands to trim
the scrim of your next threadbare, off-shore thrill.