Rich. I am not. Poor. I am not.
Nor do I have any money to speek of.
But I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.
I have a family that loves me, a daughter I love dearly more than my own life
and will treasure more than any bill can pay for strife.
I follow no greed to its end for I know what road gold will lead you down.
I know that in the end, I wish my family to be around.
Money buys not happiness nor does wealth buy true friends.
For they cannot be purchased by wicked, evil ends.
I have no penny in my pocket, nor have I a dime to my name
but I know that I am happy and will not live in vain.
Clothes do not make the a man and tattered are his wrags
To riches I will set myself apart and in poverty take my stand
for I know what true riches are even though I too wear my wrags.
So busy yourself for all your toil and make your money fist over hand.
In the end you die a lonely, bitter, broken man.
But when my grave calls me and before it I stand looking in.
I will die with a smile wider than monetary riches could ever buy.
For I am poor and have no home but truly, I am rich.