Poignant Poem

One of the callers on George Galloway's radio show read out a poem, which I thought apt for our times, so I'm reproducing it here:

when I was born, I was black
when I grew up, I was black
when I get sick, I was black
when I die, I'll be black

when you were born you were pink
when you grew up, you were white
when you get sick, you are blue
when you die, you'll be purple

yet you have the gall to call me coloured.