I live the life of the poor man I have little to do.
I live the life of the sore man, no life just blue.
The rich want to know what for man?
Theres no money to hire you, not you man!
So I sit and think and write my poems,
but theres no money in that too.
So I sit and think of poem,
to tell you about it too.
I live the life of the poor man,
I'm happy so they say.
I live the life of the poor man,
I write poems to chase the blues away.
When your poor some ask what for?
But you know I can not really say.
I guess it's really just my way.
