This is Tax Week, as every wage earner in America is all too aware. As you contemplate how much you pay the government for the privilege of living in this wonderful country, you might amuse yourself by repeating the following. (Sorry, I don’t know who the author is. If you do, please tell me.)
Tax his land, tax his bed,
Tax the table at which he’s fed.
Tax his tractor, tax his mule,
Teach him taxes are the rule.
Tax his cow, tax his goat,
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his ties, tax his shirt,
Tax his work, tax his dirt.
Tax his tobacco, tax his drink.
Tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his cigars, tax his beers,
If he cries, then tax his tears.
Tax his car, tax his gas,
Find other ways to tax his a**.
Tax all he has, then let him know
That you won’t be done ‘till he has no dough.
When he screams and hollers,
Tax him some more.
Tax him ‘till he’s good and sore.
Then tax his coffin, tax his grave.
Tax the sod in which he’s laid.
Put these words upon his tomb,
“Taxes drove me to my doom.”
When he’s gone, do not relax.
It’s time to apply the inheritance tax.
— Chip Wood