Father, don't I have to work?
No, my lucky son.
We're living now on Easy Street,
on dough from Washington.
We've left things up to Uncle Sam,
so don't get exercised.
No-one 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 do for money?
Don't worry, Bub, there's not a hitch
in this-here noble plan.
We merely soak the Filthy Rich
and feed the Common Man.
But, Daddy, won't there come a time
when they'll run out of cash?
And we'll have left, then, not a dime
and things will go to smash?!
My faith in you is shrinking, son,
you nosey little brat!
You do too damned much thinking, son,
to be a Democrat!