Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses Yearning to Breathe Free

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Now you are told,"You didn't build that."

People came to America to work, for opportunity, for the chance to become Americans; an honest days work.

Now people come to deliver us drugs, to bomb us, not to adopt our culture, not to work, rather to sign up for our social programs and to get Obama phones. Elections do have consequences