They gathered solemnly at first
Heavy the weight of the unfairly taxed
Bleary eyed from having stared to long
Into the white light of the monitor
Filling in form after form
Trying first this angle and then that
Which would get them the most return
Or the least damage and owed
On the yearly put off as long as time
Allowed ritual of giving unto Caesar
That which was due and most felt
As if it were indeed a pound of flesh

Yet no barrels were being thrown
Into the harbor, not they
For Boston was not the port of call
It had been years since ancestry
Had staged that demonstration
And many a government has had
A hand in getting them to the point
Of this present day recession where
All seems gloom and doom
Especially when looking into there
Own wallets and then into the open
Hand of the Uncle Sam begging more

So it is a stool at the bar for the
Tea partiers and Long Island’s
All around for maybe it is with
A little libation another April 15
Comes and goes without adding
To much salt to the wounds
And they live to work another
Third plus of their wages before
They are through working to pay off
What they owe to the company
Store…”St. Peter don’t you call me
Cause I can’t go”…The port of call
Last Call…anywhere you choose.

04/15/2009

Author's Note: Staging our own Tax Day Tea Party ( A Long Island Tea Party) as deadlines are met, efiles or snail mails are sent...maybe we will see you there.

Posted on 04/15/2009
Copyright © 2024 Sandy M. Humphrey