Rich Old Man Poem by mandy faye

The rich old man
Wants nothing at all
But the comfort of his money
Available on call.

He has no lover,
He is far too old
But his bonds and his equities
Warm him in the cold.

He has no tailor
And he buys no gear.
He totals his investments
When he needs some cheer.

He drinks no claret
And he has no friends.
He only talks to brokers
About his dividends.

He owns a Bentley
Which has two flat tyres
But the old man's faxes
They burn up the wires.

Buy Emerging Markets,
Gold is a Sell
And the old man chuckles
When it all goes well.

And the young folk wonder
How they might switch
From poor, young and happy
To greedy, old and rich.