WEEP NO MORE, MY LADY
Father, must I go to work?
No, my lucky son;
Were living now on Easy Street
On dough from Washington.
Weve left it up to Uncle Sam,
So dont get exercised.
Nobody has to give a damn
Weve all been subsidized.
But if Sam treats us all so well,
And feeds us milk and honey,
Please, daddy, tell me what the hell
Hes going to use for money?
Dont worry, bub, theres not a hitch
In this here noble plan
He simply soaks the filthy rich
And helps the common man.
But Father, wont there come a time
When they run out of cash
And well have left then not a dime
When things will then go to smash?
My faith in you is shrinking, son.
You nosey little brat;
You do too damn much thinking, son,
To be a Democrat!
W. E. Debnam, 1950
Father, must I go to work?
No, my lucky son;
Were living now on Easy Street
On dough from Washington.
Weve left it up to Uncle Sam,
So dont get exercised.
Nobody has to give a damn
Weve all been subsidized.
But if Sam treats us all so well,
And feeds us milk and honey,
Please, daddy, tell me what the hell
Hes going to use for money?
Dont worry, bub, theres not a hitch
In this here noble plan
He simply soaks the filthy rich
And helps the common man.
But Father, wont there come a time
When they run out of cash
And well have left then not a dime
When things will then go to smash?
My faith in you is shrinking, son.
You nosey little brat;
You do too damn much thinking, son,
To be a Democrat!
W. E. Debnam, 1950
