From The Detroit Times, January 23, 1914. By Berton Braley.
I go to the bank and I draw a check
And think I have money to last awhile,
But my hopes all crash in a total wreck
As money melts in the swiftest style,
For somebody borrows a yen or two
And somebody comes with last year’s bill,
Or my clothes wear out or the rent comes due
And leaves me nary a single mill.
When somebody pays for the work I’ve done
I grin and chuckle with soul care-free,
“Well, now I’ll certainly have some fun—“
But somebody comes with a C. O. D.;
Or if a saving account I crave
And plan on watching the roll grow fat,
The whole amount that I meant to save
Must pay insurance—or things like that!
They’re always waiting to grab my roll;
I never manage to get ahead;
I’m either paying for this year’s coal
Or last year’s horse—which is cold and dead;
Coin never lasts as I thought it would,
It always goes at the least excuse;
It never does me a bit of good;
I try to save it—but what’s the use!
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