Population

The problems of some world
Is too many people they hold
In the past they were told
How it was counted as gold

The day it dawns
The serpant starts his fawns
Its time to play pawns
And end it with yawns

Is it the heat or the sun
Forces the loins to burn
Nobody is thinking of the turn
Or take the path of the nun

The time calls for the need
Nothing wrong with the deed
For the rubber will impede
And provide you with the lead