Minstrel in the Gallery

The minstrel in the gallery
 Looked down upon the smiling faces.
 He met the gazes observed the spaces
 Between the old men's cackle.
 He brewed a song of love and hatred,
 Oblique suggestions and he waited.
 He polarized the pumpkin-eaters,
 Static-humming panel-beaters,
 Freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters
 (salaried and collar-scrubbing.)
 He titillated men-of-action
 Belly warming, hands still rubbing
 On the parts they never mention.
 He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating,
 One-line jokers, TV documentary makers
 (overfed and undertakers.)
 Sunday paper backgammon players
 Family-scarred and women-haters.
 Then he called the band down to the stage
 And he looked at all the friends he'd made.
 The minstrel in the gallery
 Looked down upon the smiling faces.
 He met the gazes observed the spaces
 In between the old men's cackle.
 He brewed a song of love and hatred,
 Oblique suggestions and he waited.
 He polarized the pumpkin-eaters,
 Static-humming panel-beaters,
 The minstrel in the gallery
 Looked down on the rabbit-run.
 And threw away his looking-glass -
 Saw his face in everyone.
 He titillated men-of-action
 Belly warming, hands still rubbing
 On the parts they never mention.
 (salaried and collar-scrubbing.)
 He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating,
 One-line jokers, TV documentary makers
 (overfed and undertakers.)
 Sunday paper backgammon players
 Family-scarred and women-haters.
 Then he called the band down to the stage
 And he looked at all the friends he'd made.
 The minstrel in the gallery
 Looked down on the rabbit-run.
 And threw away his looking-glass -
 And saw his face in everyone.
 The minstrel in the gallery
 Looked down upon the smiling faces.
 He met the gazes...
 The minstrel in the gallery