The Man That Owns You And Me Poem by richard (mak) makinson

His clothes laid out when he awakes
He never gets up before it's late
His bath freshly drawn he'll dine at eight
Says he works hard but he's got it made
There's nothing he can't afford to lose
He never had to clean his own shoes
Never carried a pail or driven a nail
He's the man that owns you and me

On ski's in Colorado or summer in France
Spends weeks under sail or climbing the Alps
His world is Concorde always been first class
If he doesn't have one it's not worth a glance
Monogrammed clothes and hand built boots
Late summer and autumn birds he'll shoot
Never known boredom or seen junk mail
He's the man that owns you and me

The sweat of your brow made him a rich man
He's got your world right in his hands
Never says sorry doesn't matter if he's wrong
Talks to the President and met the Pope in Rome
Master of Smalltalk at the cocktail party
He tells jokes he knows are not dirty
He knows the world like a favourite jacket
He's the man that owns you and me

© Richard Makinson