When i had money, money, O!
I knew no joy till i went poor;
For many a false man as a friend,
Came knocking all day at my door,
Then felt i like a child that holds
A trumpet he must not blow
Because a man is dead; i dared,
Not to speak to let this false world know.
Much have i thought of life, and seen
How poor men's hearts are ever light
And how their wives do hum like bees
And about their work from morn till night,
So, when i hear these poor ones laugh,
And see the rich ones coldly frown-
Poor men think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down.
When i had money, money, O !
My many friends proved all untrue;
But now i have no money, O !
My friends are real though very few.