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Pappas on Taxation

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Tax Poem

December 18th, 2009 · No Comments

Tax his land, tax his wage,
Tax
his bed in which he lays.
Tax
his tractor, tax his mule,
Teach him
taxes are the rule.

Tax his cow, tax his goat,
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his ties, tax
his shirts,
Tax
his work, tax his dirt.

Tax his chew, tax his smoke,
Teach him taxes are
no joke.
Tax
his car, tax his grass,
Tax
the roads he must pass.

Tax his food, tax his drink,
Tax him if he
tries to think.
Tax his sodas, tax
his beers,
If he cries, tax
his tears.

Tax his bills, tax his gas ,
Tax
his notes, tax his cash.
Tax him good and let him know
That after taxes, he has no dough.

If he hollers, tax him more,
Tax him until he’s good and sore.
Tax
his coffin, tax his grave,
Tax the sod in which he lays.

Put these words upon his tomb,
“Taxes drove me to my doom!”
And when he’s gone, we won’t relax,
We’ll still be after
the inheritance tax.

(Hat Tip: Poetic Expressions)

Tags: Poems · Tax Humor

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