"lessiful"

The privileged few sits, merry
With fist clinched, mouth's filled.
They Held on tight to plenty.
Devoid of provident
The poor Loafers

Soonest Mirth turned sorrow
But the early morning sun rose
Bringing gay and brisk and soon,
gaiety returned
But the dark nights still harbours,
vague terror
One that overshadows the moonlight.
From cock crow to dusk,
They till the soil, but sadly during
harvest they reap nothing.

For a weakening soil those not reap well
Neither does a lazy man reap bountiful
But those who sow yam at the first rain,
And weed at its tendrils reaps well,
In grim the lazy struggle, small they reap.
Alas!! The hunter as returned
Sadly though empty handed
For even his tricks doesn't lay sway
the animals knoweth it all.