If we chase useful immigrants away,
Our country will wake to a “bigly” day.
Fields will lie fallow, factories go still—
Fewer hands to build or handle the grill.
Restaurants will close and kitchens go dark
With no hustling workforce or ethnic spark.
The streets will turn silent, no bustling rush;
Cities will turn into a stifling hush.
Homes will stay dirty and the lawns uncut—
No painters, cleaners, builders, who knows what.
The crops will wither and the trucks won’t roll,
As the economy takes a great toll.
And who will care for our young children’s needs?
Who will there be to tend the farmers’ seeds?
Hospitals will be thinned, with few nurses there;
With caregivers gone, there’s a lot to fear.
So please reflect on the nation’s welfare—
What will we do when migrants aren’t here?
© 2025, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.