The multinationals

The Multinationals.

High up the Andes, a town, not big, or rich,
rather small, dusty and poor, not much to do
but sorting Llama wool, and shipping it on
a narrow track rail to the coast. Rain never
fell here and when it freakily did, hundred
years of muck was washed away, town
dwellers walked on gold, but before they
had a chance to buy vulgar trinkets and cars,
a multinational mining company, bought up
the vale and the town. The dimwitted were
grateful to be employed as miners, pay not
too bad and a pension at sixty five; those who
protested and claimed the gold as their were
regarded as bad left-wingers and sent to jail