ODE TO THE WELFARE STATE
Father, must I go to work?
No, my lucky son
We're living now 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 is shrinking in you son
You nosy little brat;
You do too damn much thinking, son,
To be a Democrat.