Alf Hutchison - Rich man

RICH MAN

A rich man told me just before he died,
And I’ve no reason to think he lied,
Of ships he’d sailed the seven seas,
And flying fish on salty breeze,

To commoners he gave no tithe,
This world was his alone to scythe;
And scythe he did from dusk till dawn
His laborers broken, bent and torn;

With nose held high he tarried forth,
His countenance full of his self worth;
Then came the reaper to his deaths door
“I’ve come that I may settle the score”

And the reaper did of that I’m sure,
Ceasing his evil for ever more;
No more time for his lucre to swell,
For he dwells now alone in the depths of Hell

Alf Hutchison

Alf Hutchison

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rich-man-2/