Greedy Scoundrels

Cometh the men, ready to sin
In their droves, shouldered by kin 

Consuming all, forsaken of culture 
Displacing the many, who were left to vulture

Days to months, cemented in history
But talk of retribution remains a mystery 

What of their art, their heirlooms and crafts?
That felt salt spray aboard creaking rafts

Shipped to new lands, foreign to their builders 
Lost them forever, along with their guilders 

And now today, in a time of great need
The greedy scoundrels do not concede 

They close their lands, and guard their borders 
With folly excuses, like upholding order 

To them I say shame, shame on you all 
May your greed whither, and your dynasties fall