Stockbroker Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I'm sitting on a window sill
with one foot out the door.
I wonder if they ever will
relay me all the score.
The market has just finished me
I traded in my gun
all stocks of mine diminished, see!
How could I now go on?
The year is nineteentwentynine,
I wanted to get rich.
I listened to that friend of mine
to please the wife, the bitch.
So if the latest figures fail
to turn my luck around
I'll spread my wings and slowly sail
toward the distant ground.
And when I reach the halfway mark
I'd say it if I could
I was a stockbrokers clark
goin' down, so far so good!