Copper Jack

For Copper Jack, money is paramount;
he’ll spread it on the table and then count.
He’ll take a wad of dollar bills
and hold them in his hand;
then to constrict the larger ones,
he’ll use a rubber band.

To make his loot he’ll do most anything;
he’ll stand amid the bees and feel the sting.
He’ll say he has some blood to give
and visit the Red Cross;
then he will leave a richer man,
but won’t admit the loss.

When it comes to money he will claw and scratch;
for the legal tender he moves with dispatch.
Any scheme to make a bundle is fair game;
every day attaining treasure is Jack’s aim.

Good Copper Jack, he’ll bend his ways of thought;
for the right price he’s able to be bought.
It is dinero that he sees,
within a field of green;
the filthy lucre is worthy,
no matter how obscene.

By day or night he plots to attain scrip;
sometimes to hide the truth he bites his lip.
He recollects what Gandhi said,
about amassing loot;
it doesn‘t jibe with honesty--
and Jack thinks that’s a hoot.

When it comes to money he will scratch and claw;
if there’s money to be made he’ll skirt the law.
And when he wakes up and greets a new sunrise,
he sees the light with dollar signs in his eyes.
.


(32 Lines)
Writer’s Cramp
July 13, 2013