I obey my country's laws,
I march in all the city parades,
And support each worthy cause.
A model citizen, I s'pose I'm not,
But I do the best I can,
I pay taxes on what I've got,
And I am an honest man.
So life for me is pretty good,
And I have few regrets,
Most years go well, just as they should,
But once each year I get upset.
The tax forms come by U.S. Mail.
Bearing January dates,
They always find us without fail,
Like hungry sharks find bait.
Not due 'til April, thank the Lord,
But that means four long months to fret,
Which gives us time to worry more,
And makes us nervous wrecks.
Each year tax people say
Their forms grow more simplified,
Which is not true in any way,
The I.R.S. has lied.
The simpler that they claim to be,
The more complicated they've become,
And from this land, no longer free,
We can't afford to run.
So, we're all becoming crooks,
Which is an awful thing to say,
But take a look at that tax book,
It's either cheat or run away.
I don't want to go to jail,
But my life's become corrupted,
And I can't make heads nor tails,
Out of forms that are obstructed.
If ten percent of Line Sixteen
Is twice as much or more,
Than 5 percent of Line Nineteen,
Then go back and check Line Four.
But on the other hand, please see
If you have more than two Exemptions,
You must deduct Line One from Three,
Though Line Six shows Five Exceptions.
Long Term Gain, or Short Term Loss?
Check Line Thirteen again,
That cost, by gosh, is pure hogwash,
According to Line Ten.
Income Tax is not for sissies,
In fact, it's not for anyone,
The whole set-up is fishy,
And no one knows how it is done.
Is a Tax Accountant what I need,
Or a qualified Psychiatrist?
God forgive me my misdeeds,
I was only trying to exist.
I feel a monster's on the loose,
That I can't hear or see,
And I am reduced to any ruse,
That will keep it off of me.
I face each year in mortal fear,
I pray God help me with this mess,
And though you think me insincere,
I say God bless the I.R.S.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis