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