The Oldest Trade

Penny wise . . . money flies
By any other name, a pound of flesh
On the round-a-bout
Pace the floor
Pay again
Don't you hate to be alone?
Get her on a telephone
By any other name, a pound of flesh
Penny wise . . . money flies
Where's your will? Come man, speak
Get up, stand on your own two feet.
I know,... I can't
My flesh is weak On the, round-a-bout Pay again
A pound of flesh, . . .

—Oakden Davits.

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