He was hardly the sharpest knife in the drawer
but the Blade could roar a mean old man’s roar.
When the students over fees went to war
Jacob unsheathed his best Blade to stand before.
“No yieldy! No compromise!” was the Blade’s call,
But amaStudent were clear, #FeesMustFall.
We gasped at their rage, we gasped at their very gall,
and wondered, has the Blade the necessary balls?
The fence, da Okapi fence, was the very first to go,
first to collapse before the students’ righteous blow.
“Oh no,” cried the Blade, “you must not misbehave so!”
Their inimical response? “Blade must fall! Blade must go!”
With great disrespect they told him “Comrade, do sit down!”
This drew from the Blade a stainless, serrated frown.
“Never. I am not your clown, I will not sit down.
Fees must be raised, for I am sheriff in this here campus town.”
“Here, young cubs, let me school you in elementary Socialism,
You must pay for what you want, or do without, or go to prison.”
This earned him failing Marx from amaStudent for Intro to Collectivism,
“That is not a classless state, Comrade, it is heartless Capitalism!”
They had no principles, they had no class,
Upon the very Union they did march.
Only Blade stood solitary, Kropotkin-like, straight as starch.
Sinister forces, though, were undermining his noble arch.
The students screamed their plight,
The students cried for their rights.
The police were not there to shoot, were not there to fight.
The police aided with batons and with fireworks, bitter, biting and white.
In the corporate box, in the very best place,
it was all watched by a lightly smiling Jake.
“Heh heh,” he did say, “heh heh,” he did prate,
“It was all a jest, a silly mistake, a magnificent jape.”
From behind he did with Zero Percent proud Blade stab and gore.
The students celebrated the battle as if it had been the war.
The little laugh, though, echoed around once-Apartheid’s walls,
For it knew nothing would change, no, nothing at all.