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The Tax Poem

Tax his land, tax his wage, tax his bed in which he lays.

Tax his tractor, tax his mule, teach him taxes is the rule.

Tax his cow, tax his goat, tax his pants, tax his coat.

Tax his tie, tax his shirt, tax his work, tax his dirt.

Tax his chew, tax his smoke, teach him taxes are no joke.

Tax his car, tax his a.., tax the roads he must pass.

Tax his tobacco, tax his drink, tax him even if he tries to think.

Tax his booze, 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.