1949 Poem - Ode To The Welfare State

1949 Poem - Ode To The Welfare State:

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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.