You’re pleased to joke. The situation’s grave.
G. K. And so am I. I’m quite in earnest, slave.
Then, tax the air they breathe, the airs they hear,
And tax their wives, it’s right they should be dear.
Tax all pet oysters, sprats and whales they’re keeping.
Tax ’em for eating, drinking, also sleeping.
Tax them besides for laughing, singing, crying.
And lay a heavy tax on folks for dyeing.
Put taxes on the nation’s food and fuel,
From turtle soup, to grits for babies’ gruel.