Robert William Service
When I was young and Scottish I
Allergic was to spending;
I put a heap of bawbees by,
But now my life is ending,
Although I would my hoarded pelf
Each day I live I find myself
Though all the market I might buy,
There's nothing to my needing;
I only have one bed to lie,
One mouth for feeding.
So what's the good of all that dough
I should have spent it long ago
In living gaily.
So take my tip, my prudent friend,
Don't guard your fortune to the end,
But blow it living.
Better on bubbly be it spent,
And chorus cuties,
Than pay it to the Government
For damned Death Duties.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Surtax by Robert William Service )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Poems Without Words, Richard Autry
- The inner child, bryan wallace
- Deepest Desire, Rajendra Nagdev
- I Dream Of You, Arthur Moore
- Reaching Her, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- The Witch, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Wartime, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Summer's Eve, Naveed Khalid
- Nightmare, Naveed Khalid
- City, Indira Renganathan