The Mercenary View

I knew a poor remittance man, A decent chap, but funny, In days when my ideas began To be controlled by money He wore a swank, patrician air; But, oh, his life was filled with care, For he had seldom cash to spare; His mien was far from sunny. I fear I was a snobbish youth Who led a prig's existence. I snubbed the chap, to tell the truth, And kept him at a distance. His clothes, well cut, were often worn Threadbare. Tho' he was gently born His friendship I refused with scorn Despite his soft insistence. But now the whirligig of time Sees fit to elevate him. While, lo, the money that was mine Is shrinking, seriatim; And faced by serious mishap. While he reclines in Fortune's lap. I'd like to find the dear old chap I'd want to cultivate him.