The Truth about Chocolate?

His name? Does it matter? He's West African boy.
His life knows no pity,little comfort or joy.
Kidnapped! Transported! And sold as a slave!
In the 21st Century, such a way to behave!
His uncle,the vendor,seems quite desperate,not greedy.
He craves food and shelter,the wants of the needy.
Back in his homeland,his mother sits,weeping,
While the giants of Chocolate have no trouble sleeping!

Early morn,in the jungle,he seeks cocoa-tree.
His tool? A great knife! Shiny! Sharp! Tall as he!
Cocoa pods contain beans,the chocolate to make,
He must gather all day and toil without break.
He works only for food, such scant compensation
For a childhood thats stolen. No play! Education!
His clothes hang in rags, his body bears scars.
The cost, to this boy, of our sweet chocolate bars!

A Samaritan arrives and he takes up the case.
He has posters printed. 'DO YOU KNOW THIS BOY'S FACE?'
Word spreads through the jungle,someone heeds the appeal,
But for thousands of children there is no repeal.
He's returned to his village,no longer alone.
The salt-tears of his mother have welcomed him home.
So this Easter-time, as you taste egg and bar,
Please remember the children of West Africa.