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Book 19 Page 33

The un taxable

The king was in the parlor

counting out his money.

The poor were in the sweet shops

working like bunnies.

The maid was in the basement

cooking up a stew.

And along came the tax man,

to collect the revenue.

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The king had kept his books right,

and knew the tax loops holes.

The poor had not the knowledge

nor the daring bold.

The poor had not the means

to launder and to cheat.

So when it came to tax time

they had to pay a heap.

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But the king with all his capitol

had written it off in tax.

He cleverly managed to avoid

the tax man’s revenue axe.

The poor without this  knowledge

didn’t receive a cent.

And angrily they wondered

where all the money went.

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They saw the king in the parlor

living on bred and honey.

And then they knew for certain

who had taken all their money.

The politicians were in the parlor

with the business men.

Making up the tax rules

with their mighty pen.

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The king was in the parlor.

            The poor were in the fields.                         

© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au  dominicj7@poetry.net.au Created on 5/6/00