Money

When I had money, money, O!

I knew no joy till I went poor;

For many a false man as a friend Came

knocking all day at my door.

Then felt I like a child that holds

A trumpet that he must not blow

Because a man is dead;

I dared Not speak to let this false world know.

Much have I thought of life, and seen

How poor men's hearts are ever light;

And how their wives do hum like bees

About their work from morn till night.

So, when I hear these poor ones laugh,

And see the rich ones coldly frown- Poor men, think

I, need not go up So much as rich men should come down.

When I had money, money,

O! My many friends proved all untrue;

But now I have no money,

O! My friends are real, though very few.