The Inheritance
At eighty, myself and my honey
Are much, much too old
To still have a bundle of money -
The house is no more, it is sold.
We travel the country, old me and my wife,
The credit cards filled to the max.
Some day we'll be leaving this life, -
But nothing the taxman can tax.
We made our will in advance,
Can't tell when the reaper will call.
We won't leave the leaving to chance -
The taxman gets nothing at all.
There's one thing my kids do not need,
For which they sure haven't a use. -
So this year we changed our deed
And added the following news:
The kids get the money left over,
That's after they paid our bills.
But uncle, dear ninety old Grover,
Inherits my box with the little blue pills.