Because the rhymes I make for raiment
Fail to avail its meed of payment,
I fain must make my well-worn tweeds
Suffice me for tomorrow’s needs–
Until my verse the public reads.
I used to go to Savile Row,
But now their prices are so high,
With royalties at all time low,
Because my books few want to buy . . .
No, I don’t blame them, but that’s why.
Well, anyway I’d rather fare
In tattered rags and ring my chimes
Than strut around in wealthy wear.
–So in these tough and trying times
Let me flaunt like defiant flags
The jubilation of my RAGS.