(Hofstede)



Only rich men can buy

Things the poor man can make

You've got nothing

And they've got plenty

Like a tree falling down

Hits a grape on the ground

They will crush the poor man's head

In books

You can sit beside everyone

In deckchairs travel an ocean

In books

You're a queen for the afternoon

Till the husband steps inside

Tons of ink

Make millions think

Tons of ink

Make you think

Is it you love is this true love

Is it you I'm thinking of love

Is it your lip it's a tulip

Is it you I'm thinking of

Tons of ink

Make millions think

Tons of ink

Make you think

Only poor men can read

All the papers they need

In the dustbins of the town