by Eric Tate The Old Man I worked for, was really so tight When I spent his money, he always took fright! If I spent a dollar He'd usually holler. "I'm ruined; the way you treat money so light" As secretary, I knew his every affair, I knew how much was hidden, and I knew where! He was so greedy, Always dressed seedy, Yet a fortune was hidden nearby, somewhere. His poor wife, in struggling to make ends meet, While she was keeping the house looking neat, She was fully aware Of how much lay where, He spurned bank accounts. She kept HERS complete! He made her promise, with his final rest, All of his money would be laid on his chest! "This loot that I have looked after so well It's still all mine: come heaven or hell!" She kept to this promise... By doing her best. Following orders, we did nothing rash. His wife and I searched, till we'd done our dash. As that money mounted, And her Bank accounted Her cheque pinned to his chest was made out to "CASH"!
The end