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How It Goes

From The Detroit Times, January 23, 1914. By Berton Braley.

I go to the bank and I draw a check
    And think I have money to last awhile,
But my hopes all crash in a total wreck
    As money melts in the swiftest style,
For somebody borrows a yen or two
    And somebody comes with last year’s bill,
Or my clothes wear out or the rent comes due
    And leaves me nary a single mill.

When somebody pays for the work I’ve done
    I grin and chuckle with soul care-free,
“Well, now I’ll certainly have some fun—“
    But somebody comes with a C. O. D.;
Or if a saving account I crave
    And plan on watching the roll grow fat,
The whole amount that I meant to save
    Must pay insurance—or things like that!

They’re always waiting to grab my roll;
    I never manage to get ahead;
I’m either paying for this year’s coal
    Or last year’s horse—which is cold and dead;
Coin never lasts as I thought it would,
    It always goes at the least excuse;
It never does me a bit of good;
    I try to save it—but what’s the use!

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