Sons of the Idle Rich

The  market’s up, the market’s down
It doesn’t  matter which . . .
With stocks and  bonds and puts and calls
In just the  proper mix.
You’re clipping  coupons, cashing checks
Without a single  hitch . . .
Sons of the  I-dle Ri-ich.

You’ve  got enough to pay the price
For every basic  need . . .
Like ascots,  scotch and cashmere socks
And polo pony  feed.
Your dad has got  a mistress
‘cause your mom  she is a bitch . . .
Sons of the  I-dle Ri-ich.

Whenever you’re  attracted to a woman who is hot . . .
You try to woo  and win her with a sail upon your yacht.
You imitate a rapper when you ask your friends “Wassup?”
It clashes with  your interest in this year’s America’s Cup!

Your  form upon the squash court
is a sight not to be missed.
You finish hot  and sweaty
but expect that you’ll be kissed
by girls with  names like “Carter”
and end up drunk in a ditch . . .
Sons of the  I-dle Ri-ich.

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