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The Poetry Of Taxes


a tax poem

Received: 08Mar2008

Nothing is certain but death and taxes; death happens once, taxes happen more often.
Tax his land,
Tax his wage,
Tax the bed in which he lays.

Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes is the rule.

Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants and tax his coat.

Tax his ties,
Tax his shirts,
Tax his work and tax his dirt.
Tax his smokes,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he tries to think.

Tax his hooch,
Tax his beers,
If he cries, just tax his tears.

Tax his bills,
Tax his gas,
Tax his notes, and tax his cash.

Tax him good,
let him know,
After taxes, he's got no dough.
If he hollers,
Tax him more,
Tax him 'til he's good'n sore.

Tax his coffin,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in which he lays.

Put these words
upon his tomb,
'Taxes drove me to my doom!'

And when he's gone,
We won't relax,
He still owes inheritance TAX!