Counting Up And Counting Out Poem by Patrick William Kavanagh

Shiny coins and crisp new notes. Counting money, - counting votes.
Counting on my new friend, Mammon, hoping He will help me out.
Anticipating envy in the eyes of all who see my mounting wealth,
Images inside my avaricious eyes, of all my enemies who'll scream and shout,
but not for joy.

Pile it up beneath the bed, dig a hole beneath the floor, inside the garden shed.
Mustn't say too much, or have too many people stopping by,
I tell them just enough, to see the envy growing in their eyes.
Sometimes, I think a party would be nice,
I could show my many pretty things and hand out free advice,
But then I think about the price,
and change my mind.

It's coming with me when I die,
A coffin made of solid gold inside a temple reaching to the sky.
And if you want to know the reason why,
It's mine! , and I don't wish to share it.
I doubt that you would care for it,
the way I do.
It's for the best that all my wealth should stay with me.
And I'll be rich for all eternity...
Until the end of time,
I'll have more wealth than you!

Lincolnshire
18/02/13