Jars And Jars Of Pickled Gherkins?

No one is ever-thankful Lamenting plates empty, Chairs filled at the dining room table, "When your counters only pickings. Jars and jars of pickled gherkins? " No one is ever thankful When these wages, given spiteful Are delivered by the corrupt; Oligarch's troops, who have vodka and bread Dressed from head to toe in sable. No one is ever thankful For those thieving government officials For low paid state wages, With all those mandatory inherent dangers Fighting-for every scrap, morsel. No one is ever thankful When they've armed themselves to the teeth And, there is no food parcel or Red Cross relief No one is ever thankful to those grandees Who put themselves in charge; "corruption" brother it's a Scandal.