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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