When you grow up, you'll work in a shop
When you get married, your wife will work, too
So that the rich will have nothing to do.
Hush-a-by baby, on the tree top
When you grow old, your paycheck will stop
After you've spent the little you save,
First to the poorhouse, then to the grave.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2019/10/2 - 18:04
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