Who hath created the rolling luggage?
'Twas not Satan, though me thinks it mischief
For the common man a-wheeling baggage.
Namethed Bernard Sadow, the little shit.
He knew not what he did that fateful day,
Condemning us to a world filled with wheels.
Afore we were thus "freed," man earned his pay
By hefting his sack, on his back: no deals!
Now the sackless traverse the underground
Through a minefield of meek wheeling parcels.
Damn 'Zounds! They are a nuisance, pound for pound,
I wish them banished to the Dardenelles.
"If you can't carry it, do not pack it,"
It rolls o'er my foot? I'll surely whack it.