POETRY
(By T. T. Mlarke.) Tax the farmer, tax his dad, Tax whate’er he ever had. If he’s broke, it’s just too bad. Go ahead and tax the man. Tax his cow, tax her milk, Tax his bed, tax his quilt. Tax ijlis pig, tax his pen, Tax this flocks, tax his hen. Tax his corn, tax his wheat, Tax his waggon, tax its squeak, Tax his wife, tax his boy. Tax whatever gives him joy. Tax his baby, tax his cot, Tax his all—who gives a jot! Tax the man that’s on the dole, Get him in a deeper hole. Tax the manufacturer, too; He is more than getting through. Tax the man who works for him ’Fore his pay cheque gets too thin Tax his buildings, tax his chattels, Tax his Ford with all its rattles, Tax his stock, tax his cash, Tax him' double if he’s rash. Tax his light, tax his power, Tax his pay-roll by the hour. If he’s making more than rent, Add another five per cent. Tax whate’er he has to sell; If he hollers—TAX HIS YELL.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TAWC19391206.2.72
Bibliographic details
Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 59, Issue 4220, 6 December 1939, Page 11
Word Count
184POETRY Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 59, Issue 4220, 6 December 1939, Page 11
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