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The Philanthropist

The starving child fell on her knees,
"Could you, would you, mister, please
Give me a little crust of bread--
It's been so long since I've been fed!"

"Get out of here, you little brat,
You filthy beggar, get out--scat,"
And though the starving child died,
He went to church that day with pride,

For he had just won an award
For his donations to the Lord,
But all of us who knew him well
Were sure that he would rot in hell.