Tax their land, Tax their beds, Tax their tables, At which they’re fed.
Tax their work, Tax their pay, They work for peanuts, Anyway!
Tax their cows, Tax their goats, Tax their pants, Tax their coats.
Tax the rich, tax the poor,
Tax the ceiling, tax the floor.
Tax it all, then call for more,
Smile and say, “There’s always more!”
Tax their smoke, Tax their drink, Tax them if they Try to think.
Tax their cars, Tax their gas, Find other ways, To tax their ass.
Tax all they have, Then let them know, You won’t be done, Till they’re broke and skint.
Tax the rich, tax the poor,
Tax the ceiling, tax the floor.
Tax it all, then call for more,
Smile and say, “There’s always more!
When they scream and holler,
Then tax them some more,
Tax them till They are good and sore.
Tax their dreams, tax their sleep,
Tax the promises they keep.
Tax their hope, and when it’s gone—
Just invent another con.
Tax their coffins, Tax their graves, Tax the sod in Which they are laid.
And then When they’re gone, And heaven calls—
Guess what? You’re taxed at Saint Peter’s gates!
Tax the rich, tax the poor,
Tax the ceiling, tax the floor.
Tax it all, then call for more,
Smile and say, “There’s always more!”
© Greg Heartley, UK
℗ Seven Beland Publishing Switzerland