There once was a tiny snail who they say was as tough as a nail
Not very long but incredibly strong, even downing a hawk by it’s tail
Despite the blood that he shed, he was rather well read, and maintained a neat little library
Most days he would joust before retiring with Proust and ponder ideas most contrary
Oh it just goes to show that you never do know what goes on in the life of the small
Going their way, day after day, forgotten and yet toweringly tall
You may not hear them, you may even jeer them, but at the end of the day they know
The masses will rise, it shall seem a surprise, welcome the overthrow