The Root Of All Sorts Of Evil Poem by Dennis Lange

The love of money evil is,
And subtle as it brings
An excessive interest in -
Not people - but mere things.

With Coveting and Selfishness -
The Gang of Greed - it rides,
Atop the waves until it floods,
O'erwhelming like the tides.

We all must toil and all must spend;
And there's the nasty trick.
The love of money's hidden well,
Like dose of arsenic.

But in the end, its ugliness
Will raise its wicked head
And show itself for what it is
By how its face is fed.

The spending of the dollars, or
Their keeping in the fist
Is tell-tale mark of money's love,
Sure sign of lovers' tryst.

Both God and money can't be served,
So when it's time to bless
By giving, mammon's tightly clinched -
The Greater gets the less.

The getting of the gold takes time
And that's a bigger clue.
One's treasure's where the minute's spent -
The loved one gets his due.

By this the love of money's found:
How much one gives it space;
How money comes and money goes;
How men take second place.