ODE TO THE WELFARE STATE

When the Wealthy have no more to give, we will all sleep in the same kind of bed, if there is one. Perhaps we need to go back to the Founding Fathers way of thinking.

ODE TO THE WELFARE STATE
(from a news article in 1949)
Mr. Truman's St. Paul, Minn., pie-for-everybody Speech last night reminded us that, at the tail-end of the recent session of Congress, Representative Clarence J. Brown (R-Ohio) jammed into the Congressional Record the following poem, Describing its author only as "a prominent Democrat of the State of Georgia":

DEMOCRATIC DIALOG

Father, must I go to work?
No, my lucky son,
We're living now on Easy Street
On dough from Washington.

We've left it up to Uncle Sam,
So, don't get exercised.
Nobody has to give a damn--
We've all been subsidized.

But, if Sam treats us all so well,
And feeds us milk and honey,
Please, Daddy, what the hell
He's going to use for money?

Don't worry bub, there's not a hitch
In this here noble plan,
He simply soaks the Filthy Rich,
And helps the common man.

But, father, won't there come a time
When they run out of cash
And we have left them not a dime,
when things all go to smash?

My faith in you is shrinking, son,
You nosy little brat;
You do too damn much thinking, son,
To be a Democrat.

_