This poem reads:

My Umbrella

The sun beats down and tortures me
When the noon day meal has come
I sit there along the barbed wire
and eat my prison slum

I do not feel those burning rays
When morning work is done
For the flies are my umbrella
and will shield me from the sun

That parasol full dark and broad
Lets not a ray of sunshine through
So I lay there greatfully in the shade
while I admire that ratinue

But that canopy is not mine for long
The flies soon eat my all
They shall leave for other feasts
and I loose that parasol.