Drop by drop the bucket fills

With the tears of our broken hearts

If only we could right what ills

Our poor world torn apart

Drop by drop slowly it rises

The pain and sorrow that we feel

As we witness the demises

Of our brethren over a meal

Drop by drop and little by little

Sorrow turns to anger

And the bucket’s wood is brittle

It shall soon break or turn over

Drop by drop we reach the top

Soon we shall see the small waves

Reach the skies and we won’t stop

Until they see that we are braves

Drop by drop our tears they fall

But soon, our tears will dry

And when they do, beware the call

Of what you consider small fry