Tax time is for most too unhygienic.

     We all dislike taxes, I guess it’s genetic.

Tax is a three letter, four letter word

     For, who wants to pay for a governing herd?

 Blue and red hucksters gang gaggling amuck.

     Some few call a Congress, and I call a duck

Quack, quack the flock promises quacking aloud,

     anytime anyone gathers a crowd.

Quack, quack about giving the worker a living.

     Quack on about trying to spend less on flying.

 Quack about budgets and Social Security.

     Quack ideologically on Adam Smith purity.

 But where does this quacking that hackles up foes,

     lead us, I wonder? If only to woes.

We’d pay taxes more gladly if Congress had unction

     to work compromises, as grownups should function.

But politics being no noble profession,

     we grudgingly file our income confession.

Burnt homage to hacks who spend off our backs,

     that three letter, four letter hated word “tax.”

© 2011 by Robert S. Steinberg 

     all rights reserved

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