Home, James
Home, James
By Elton Camp
The usual hallmark of the one percent
Is that by chauffeured limo they went
If Astor, Rockefeller or Vanderbilt
You knew they were loaded to the hilt
When they were ready to leave the scene
They loaded into a waiting limousine
“Home, James,” is what they would say
It must be such fun to get to do that way
Limos now are nicer with different name
But those who ride in the back are the same
They have more money than they can spend
And only to other millionaires are they friend
I just wonder how much income tax they pay
Or if they get out of most of it by some way
President Obama seems to think they do
And, as far as I can know, it might be true
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