Banking

If I was a rich man,

I'd not know what to do,

Because I just can't understand,

The gold and silver hue.



The money is metered out,

Presently in a forthnightly dose,

But then I wander about,

And soon it be just a ghost.



But maybe a big healthy bundle,

Would get me back in line,

And I'd go aske Peter Cundell,

For the promising garden advice.



But this silly dream of mine,

Really is absurd,

For I may not have a dime,

But be wealthy in the word.



(c)R.H.Elliott 2005

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Oh I wouldn't know, what to do with the dough, But I'm sure in wealth, I'll find friends to help.

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Eddie Gain's picture

amen

this poem makes me want to run around screaming over intercoms: "Would the owner of an ounce of dignity please contact the mall security?"