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 filty 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 nosey little brat;

You do too damn much thinking, son,

To be a Democrat.