POOR MAN'S HEAVEN
As recorded by Bud Billings & Carson Robison (1932)


Now friends gather near, I want you to hear
A dream that I had last night
There's a land o'er the sea for you and for me
Where we won't have to struggle and fight.

There's real feather beds where we lay our heads
And a nice private room for each one
There's shoes with soles and pants without holes
And no work up there to be done

In Poor Man's Heaven, the land of the free
There's nothing up there but good luck
There's strawberry pie that's twenty feet high
And whipped cream they bring in a truck.

We'll own all the banks and shoot all the cranks
And we won't give a durn who we hurt
And the millionaire's son won't have so much fun
When we put him to shovelling dirt.

We'll know how it feels in automobiles
With a footman to open the door
And folks that get smart, we'll take them apart
And spread them all over the floor.

In Poor Man's Heaven, we'll run the whole place
And we won't have nothing to fear
We'll eat all we please, from ham and egg trees
That grow by a lake full of beer.

We'll live on champagne and ride on the train
And sleep in the Pullman at night
And if someone should dare to ask for our fare
We'll haul off and put out his light.

We'll take an iron rail and open the jail
And let all the poor men out quick
And the sheriff's own mug we'll throw in the jug
And then throw the key in the creek.

In Poor Man's Heaven we'll have our own way
No salt pork and beans over there
But we will be fed our breakfast in bed
And served by a fat millionaire

We won't need to yearn for money to burn
'Cause we'll own a big money press
We'll run her full speed, and make all we need
And light our cigars with the rest.

The landlords we'll take and tie to a stake
And make 'em give back all our dough
Then we'll let them sweat, and learn what they get
When they go to that hot place below

In Poor Man's Heaven we'll own our own home
And we won't have to work like a slave
Then we will be proud to sing right out loud
The land of the free and the brave.