Rich man , poor man

Woe is thee Rich man
who sip their un - oaked Chardonnays
eating fois gras pate
Who abide in their two storey town houses
thinking ignorance is bliss
Woe to your wounded soul
and woe to the faces on the soles of your shoes

Blessed are the humbled poor masses
who must pay for every scrap in to their mouths
Who scrimp and save for every days living
Yours is your blessed soul
pure as the freshly fallen snow
An honest living and an honest reward in Heaven

You shall receive yours when God shows His right Hand
.

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