The rich man has his motor-car, <br /> His country and his town estate. <br />He smokes a fifty-cent cigar <br /> And jeers at Fate. <br /> <br />He frivols through the livelong day, <br /> He knows not Poverty, her pinch. <br />His lot seems light, his heart seems gay; <br /> He has a cinch. <br /> <br />Yet though my lamp burns low and dim, <br /> Though I must slave for livelihood— <br />Think you that I would change with him? <br /> You bet I would!<br /><br />Franklin P. Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rich-man-3/
