The Rich Man

Franklin P. Adams

1881 to 1960

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Track 1

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He frivols through the livelong day,
He knows not Poverty her pinch.
Though I must slave for livelihood—
His lot seems light, his heart seems gay,
Yet though my lamp burns low and dim,
The rich man has his motor-car,
He smokes a fifty-cent cigar
Think you that I would change with him?
His country and his town estate.
And jeers at Fate.
He has a cinch.
You bet I would!

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