Saturday, April 28, 2012

1949 Poem - Ode To The Welfare State

1949 Poem - Ode To The Welfare State:

'via Blog this'

Father, must I go to work?
   No, my lucky son.
We’re living on easy street
   On dough from Washington.

We’ve left it up to Uncle Sam,
   So don’t get exercised.
Nobody has to give a damn –
   We’ve all been SUBSIDIZED!

But if Sam treats us all so well
   And feeds us milk and honey,
Please, daddy tell me what the hell
   He’s going to use for money?

Don’t worry, bub, there’s not a hitch
   In this noble plan –
He’s simply soaks the filthy rich
   And helps the common man.

But, farther, wont there come a time
   When they run out of cash
And we have left them not a dime
   When things will go to smash?

My faith in you is shrinking, son,
   You nosy little brat;
You do too much thinking, son,
   To be a Democrat.

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