The poem
Young man, gather gold and gear, they will wear you well; You can thumb your nose at fear, Wish the horde in hell. With the haughty you can be Insolent and bold: Young man, if you would be free Gather gear and gold.
Mellow man o middle age, Buy a little farm; Then let revolution rage, you will take no ham. Cold and hunger, hand in hand May red ruin spread; With your little bit of land You'll be warm and fed.
Old Ma, seek the smiling sun, Wall yourself away; Dream aloof from everyone IN a garden gay. Let no grieving mar your mood, Have no truck with tears; Greet each day with gratitude - Glean a hundred years.