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Taxing Taxmen- An Ode to the Income Tax Fellows


Tax his land, tax his wage; tax the bed in which he lays

Tax his tractor, tax his mule; teach him taxes is the rule.

Tax his cow, tax his goat; tax his pants, tax his coat.

Tax his ties, tax his shirts; tax his work, tax his dirt.

Tax his chew, tax his smoke; teach him taxes are no joke.

Tax his car, tax his ass; tax the roads he must pass,

Tax his tobacco, tax his drink; tax him if he tries to think.

Tax his booze, tax his beers; if he cries tax his tears,

Tax his bills, tax his gas; tax his notes, tax his cash.

Tax him good and let him know that after taxes he has no dough.

If he hollers tax him more, tax him until he's good and sore.

Tax his coffin, tax his grave; tax the sod in which he lays.

Put these words upon his tomb, "Taxes drove me to my doom!"

And when he's gone, we won't relax, we'll still be after inheritance tax!


[Contributed by DN Chaudhri of New Delhi in 'The Telegraph', April 13, 2002]