Save, and you save alone.
Tho’ fast be the race you’ve got to keep pace,
Till you’ve spent every nickel you own.
Jazz, and the bunch jazz with you;
Dance, and you’re by yourself;
The mob thinks it’s “jake” to shimmy and shake,
For the “old-fashioned stuff’s” on the shelf.
Have a “case,” and your friends will adore you;
Have a thirst, and they all pass you by;
For men want full measure of all your treasure,