Wistful

Oh how I'd be gay and glad If a little house I had, Snuggled in a shady lot, With behind a garden plot; Simple grub, old duds to wear, A book, a pipe, a rocking-chair . . . You would never hear me grouse If I had a little house. Oh if I had just enough Dough to buy the needful stuff; Milk and porridge, toast and tea, How contented I would be! You could have your cake and wine, I on cabbage soup would dine, Joking to the journey's end - Had I just enough to spend. Oh had I no boss to please I'd give thanks on bended knees; Could I to myself belong, I would fill the day with song. Freedom's crust is sweeter far Than control and caviar; How my ragged hat I'd toss If I didn't have a boss. So you may see my point of view, But there's nothing I can do; Oh the weariness of work, Duties that I may not shirk. Though simplicity I crave I must go down to my grave, Bossed by bullion, crossed by care - Just a poor damn millionaire.