Wistful

 Oh how I'd be gay and glad
If a little house I had,
Snuggled in a shady lot,
With behind a garden plot;
Simple grub, old duds to wear,
A book, a pipe, a rocking-chair .
 .
 .

You would never hear me grouse
If I had a little house.


Oh if I had just enough
Dough to buy the needful stuff;
Milk and porridge, toast and tea,
How contented I would be!
You could have your cake and wine,
I on cabbage soup would dine,
Joking to the journey's end -
Had I just enough to spend.


Oh had I no boss to please
I'd give thanks on bended knees;
Could I to myself belong,
I would fill the day with song.

Freedom's crust is sweeter far
Than control and caviar;
How my ragged hat I'd toss
If I didn't have a boss.


So you may see my point of view,
But there's nothing I can do;
Oh the weariness of work,
Duties that I may not shirk.

Though simplicity I crave
I must go down to my grave,
Bossed by bullion, crossed by care -
Just a poor damn millionaire.

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