Ode to the Welfare State

By Pat Tarzwell

Mr. Truman’s St. Paul Minn., pie-for-everybody speech last night reminded us that, at the tail-end of the recent session of Congress, Representative Clarence J. Brown (R-Ohio) jammed into the Congressional Record the following poem, describing its author as “a prominent Democrat of the State of Georgia”:


Father, must I go to work?

No, my lucky son.

We’re living now on Easy Street

On dough from Washington

We’ve left it up to Uncle Sam,

So don’t get exercised.

Nobody has to give a damn—

We’ve all been subsidized.


But if Sam treats us all so well

And feeds us milk and honey,

Please daddy, tell me what the hell

He’s going to use for money.

Don’t worry, bub, there’s not a hitch

In this here, noble plan—

He simple soaks the filthy rich

And helps the common man.

But, father, won’t there come a time

When they run out of cash

And we have left them not a dime

When things will go to smash?

My faith in you is shrinking son,

You nosy little brat;

You do to much damn thinking son,

To be a Democrat.

Published Friday, November 4th 1949

Thanks to  Sandi Dahlquist,  KPTP Secretary for finding this gem.