Who is there living
Who hates not the day,
You compile yearly figures
To see what you'll pay
To dear Uncle Sam,
Who so thoughtfully sent you
That big padded letter
That set you a-stew.
You procrastinate hopefully,
and lingeringly wait
For, there are still several days
Till the dead-line date. Wife itemizes all day,
You add into night,
Wind up in an argument
On whose figures are right.
You both get so befuddled
You seek outside aid;
Although, you never did account
For the money you made -
You write out a check,
Seal the flap with a smear,
Think; what a heck of a way
To wind up a year! |
