Prosperity
By James Cravens

“Oh, you must relocate,” he says.
“Here the money grows on trees.
The labor’s non-intensive,
Merely gather it with ease.”

And so I caught a ride
And went to see what I could see,
And walked down Massachusetts Street
And passed beneath a tree.
“It’s true” I cried, as I espied
A twenty dollar bill,
And paused beneath the mother lode
My pockets for to fill.

But then a thought did strike me
And though some may disagree,
Working on the first day
Just so displeases me.

So thus I reconsidered
And instead of bending down,
Said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow
On my second day in town.”