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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
“Put all my money
in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
poem by Raj Arumugam
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For Years/ A Miser Of Every Minute
FOR YEARS/ A MISER OF EVERY MINUTE
For years
A miser of every minute
For my work.
And now near old age
I understand
All that time given to works
Never to be read,
And so
A seeming tranquility.
If all my time wasted
Why be a miser
Any longer?
And yet,
What have I done?
Can I somehow still
Do something?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Oh, I wish I were a miser; being a miser must be so occupying.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While the miser is merely a capitalist gone mad, the capitalist is a rational miser.
The miser does not own the gold, it is the gold that owns the miser.
The Crying From Misery
The miser has concussion when sick,
It is unholy and right if you end;
It contains blessings, the world,
When holiness has defeated;
We are holy, and they are so unholy,
The miser has concussion when sick
Too sick he is that it matters.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying,
You have divine nature when child
And lose when miserable more,
Like an angel it is, then adults shall change,
When babies were also them, also them.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
The miser has concussion when sick,
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Love
Lust for power and more power
Is your mask with a power monger
You may think then to annihilate
The weak for the conquest ultimate
Of your devotee- the power monger.
Money and miser in this pair
Of greed you become embodiment
You are a quantity for a miser
Of money and it's aggrandizement
For which he crosses all extents.
Lover and beloved in this pair
You mask adroitly carnel desires
Infatuation & longing on separation.
A mastery you show in presentation
In celestial form human relations.
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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Aaron Stark
Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, --
Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose.
A miser was he, with a miser's nose,
And eyes like little dollars in the dark.
His thin, pinched mouth was nothing but a mark;
And when he spoke there came like sullen blows
Through scattered fangs a few snarled words and close,
As if a cur were chary of its bark.
Glad for the murmur of his hard renown,
Year after year he shambled through the town, --
A loveless exile moving with a staff;
And oftentimes there crept into his ears
A sound of alien pity, touched with tears, --
And then (and only then) did Aaron laugh.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Sonnet
The worldly prince doth in his sceptre hold
A kind of heaven in his authorities;
The wealthy miser, in his mass of gold,
Makes to his soul a kind of Paradise;
The epicure that eats and drinks all day,
Accounts no heaven, but in his hellish routs;
And she, whose beauty seems a sunny day,
Makes up her heaven but in her baby's clouts.
But, my sweet God, I seek no prince's power,
No miser's wealth, nor beauty's fading gloss,
Which pamper sin, whose sweets are inward sour,
And sorry gains that breed the spirit's loss:
No, my dear Lord, let my Heaven only be
In my Love's service, but to live to thee.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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The miser is as much in want of what he has as of what he has not.
quote by Publilius Syrus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Compulsive Obsession
The miser sits and counts his gold
well wrapped in rags against the cold.
He has no fire he lacks the sense
He cannot bear to spend his pence.
He dines upon stale bread and cheese
sometimes porridge made from peas
to satisfy his appetite.
His bags of coin his one delight.
He has no friends he trusts no man
for they will rob him if they can.
He lives in abject poverty
to spend a coin is misery.
I do not envy him his gold
a bitter man who’s heart is cold.
I share what little comes my way
I cannot make my few pence stay.
But count my self a wealthy man
The miser save all that he can
and lives alone in misery.
I think that he should envy me.
8-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To beg of the miser is to dig a trench in the sea.
Love
Love that is unexpressed
Is like the coffer of the miser..!
poem by Rafeeque C.K
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