Work is the curse of the working class
The rich just bide their time
Work gives riches to all but me
The rich just get by fine
Work is the cures of the working class
The ratio is not clear
The rich get most of all that’s earnt
The worker just little I fear
The worker is not a happy soul
The rich sit back in glee
And if he gets but half a chance
they’ll take everything from me
If I get rich I would like to think
That wealth I would want to share
But something tells me when you’re rich
You never seem to care
So all I ask is half a chance
To prove that theory wrong
Give me half a million quid
And see how I get along
No’ give me two’ no give me three
Sod it give me four
Just look what happens when you’re rich
You’re always wanting more
So maybe work will keep me down
My feet firm on the floor
I have my wife my health my kids
Who could ask for more.
No, Jack you cannot ask for more than what you already have! You are rich in the most important way that has nothing to do with 'stuff' you can buy with money. Great poem, a '10! ' Keep writing and sharing with us. Best Wishes, Marilyn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this poem and used part of it in a song /video I had to make as an assignment for a class on Creative Use of Archive FIlm. Let me know if you want to see it. Also wonder when it was written...