Brown Paper Bag Poem by Paula Glynn

I hand out my business card,
And it may have been written,
On a brown paper bag,
For all the good it does.
I just want to live this life,
And have my business make money,
I can enjoy the weather,
When it is sunny,
And cosy up to the fire,
In the chill of deep winter.
I don't want to be a tramp,
God bless their souls,
But I do want to have some control,
And I don't want to be drunk,
On the little alcohol I can afford,
Disorientated and defenceless.
But life is tough,
And I do want to see myself in a beautiful house,
With a beautiful wife,
And beautiful kids,
Who play in a beautiful garden,
Where brown paper bags are thrown away,
And each day is lived to the max,
Everything paid, including the tax,
To clown around on merry nights,
And never be branded a fool,
To be educated at a top class school,
Where I studied business,
And learnt how making money,
Can make this world a richer,
More rewarding place for everybody,
But these are far away dreams,
Seeming to drift away,
Dreams I would happily catch,
And bring into reality,
But that is not how it is,
And where I'll be tomorrow,
I just don't know,
My dreams crumpling,
A brown paper bag blowing in the breeze.