Ode To The Welfare State
Father, must I go to work?
No, my lucky son
We’re living on Easy Street
On dough from Washington
We’ve left it up to Uncle Sam,
So don’t get exercised
Nobody has to give a damn —
We’ve all been subsidized
But if Sam treats us all so well
And feeds us milk and honey
Please, daddy, tell me what the hell
He’s going to use for money
Don’t worry, bub, there’s not a hitch
In this here noble plan —
He simply soaks the filthy rich
And helps the common man
But father, won’t there come a time
When they run out of cash
And we have left them not a dime
When things will go to smash?
My faith in you is shrinking, son,
You nosy little brat;
You do too damn much thinking, son
To be a Democrat.
