Triplet
TRIPLET
If you spent most of your money on beer
In an effort to generate good cheer
The bank manager might easily jeer
He’d be looking at your balance in fear
Wond’ring if the end of your spend is near
Or should he give you a kick in the rear
You’d might still manage to be in the clear
If only you were a psychic or seer
To predict black or red by end of year
When you shed just a slight bit of a tear
The manager’d say, “I’d still hold you dear
If you take your business away from here.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .
Written for, and entered in, Dr Ram’s contest TRIPLET
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