Stolen from the interwebs...
Father, must I go to work?
No, my lucky son.
We’re living now on Easy Street
On dough from Washington.
We’ve left it up to Uncle Sam,
So don’t get exercised.
Nobody has to give a damn-
We’ve all been subsidized
But if Sam treats us all so well
And feeds us milk and honey
Please, daddy, tell me what the hell
He’s going to use for money.
Don’t worry, bub, there’s not a hitch
In this here noble plan-
He simple soaks the filthy rich
And helps the common man.
But, Father, won’t there come a time
When they run out of cash
And we have left them not a dime
Then things will go to smash?
My faith in you is shrinking, son,
You nosy little brat;
You do too damn much thinking
To be a democrat!
Daily News, Friday November 4, 1949