The poem
I wonder if successful men Are always happy? And do they sing with gusto when Springtime is sappy? Although I am of snow-white hair And nighly mortal, Each time I sniff the April air I chortle.
I wonder if a millionaire Jigs with enjoyment, Having such heaps of time to spare For daft employment. For as I dance the Highland Fling My glee is muckle, And doping out new songs to sing I chuckle.
I wonder why so soon forgot Are fame and riches; Let cottage comfort be my lot With well-worn britches. As in a pub a poor unknown, Brown ale quaffing, To think of all I'll never own,-- I'm laughing.