Poetry

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Money doesn't grow on trees we are told
You've got to inherit it or dig up some gold
When I was growing up we were poor as dirt
I looked forward to getting a brand new shirt

I had my first job making three dollars a day
I worked all day and had no time to play
As a teenager I rode around in mama's car
A dollar's worth of gas carried me far

As a private in the Army my pay was low
Pay raises it seemed came mighty slow
We didn't have computers, cells and ipods to buy
I did buy an eight track and listen to Lucy in the Sky

Last year I watched gas prices soar and soar
All the time the people wanted more and more
Most of us live better than kings did in the past
What king had a refrigerator that would last and last

The answer from the government is a stimulus packet
Giving money to bail out banks, and such what a racket
A dollar or a quarter sure ain't what it used to be
But we could spend it more wisely it seems to me

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