In cluttered hovels there are no celebrations,
New Year extravagance is found only in mansions.
A wide gap exists between the two classes,
One the rich, the other, the poor masses.
The favoured party hard,
For money they do not have to be guard.
They dance themselves breathless,
Becoming violent, rough and boisterous.
They drive at breakneck pace,
Guilt they do not feel a trace.
In contrast are the masses,
With no money in their purses.
Theirs is a changeless existence,
They can not indulge in light dalliance.
The New Year is another year,
Nothing special or dear.
They sit huddled around a dying fire on New Year night,
Waiting for the Saviour to change their plight.