via Facebook

A Tax Poem

A Tax Poem

Tax his land; tax his bed; tax the table at which he’s fed.
Tax his tractor; tax his mule; teach him taxes are the rule.
Tax his work; tax his pay; he works for peanuts anyway!
Tax his cow; tax his goat; tax his pants; tax his coat.
Tax his ties; tax his shirt; tax his work; tax his dirt.
Tax his tobacco; tax his drink; tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his cigars; tax his beers; If he cries, tax his tears.
Tax his car; tax his gas; find other ways to tax his a___.
Tax all he has, then let him know that you won’t be done ‘til he has no dough.
When he screams and hollers, then tax him some more; tax him ‘til he’s good and sore.
Then tax his coffin; tax his grave; tax the sod in which he’s laid.
Put these words upon his tomb, “Taxes drove me to my doom…”.
When he’s gone, do not relax; its time to apply the inheritance tax.



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *