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                                               I was a poor, unhappy gent,
                                               --Unhappy, because I couldn't pay my rent,
                                                   Having nary a cent,
                                                   (Although none I'd spent--)
                                               It all going to the government;

                                               In fact, each month, coming even less close,
                                               (My net pay appearing so very gross;)
                                                   --For, as each month went,
                                                   A tax new they'd present,
                                               Attacks on me, and presents for them, it bent

                                               Me out of shape so much, I fin'lly broke,
                                               (And was boke!), such anger it did evoke,
                                                   And, in rage did I vent,
                                                   Such that I soon underwent
                                               For my rebelliousness, imprisonment;

                                               And, I bothered not even to post bail bond,
                                               For (the con-tradiction:) as a con you will not get conned;
                                               In the penitentiary I was a resident,
                                                 Yet, not a bit penitent,     Yet
                                                 Since that's where was sent
                                               My money, thus, at last, I was
                                                 paying my rent!!