The Golden Bough

A golden bough upon your head,
rest little baby, no need to cry.
Daddy 's rich, your Mom's good-looking,
rest little baby, warm, safe and dry.

The future foretold you'd live this way,
no toil and sorrow will come to you.
No illness or injury on this day,
only fabulous fortune tried and true.

Everything you want is at your side,
it is just the way the bough bends.
Without asking you'll have a pony to ride.
The best of friends good money sends.

On a golden bough you will ride,
through a life of wealth and plenty.
You will never see the seedy side,
except when rake and randy.

When the bough bends deep,
you feign but do not weep.
True to your self you always keep,
when life gives pits you get candy.

But when the bough breaks,
and the earth quakes,
will you give up the gold,
for what’s handy?

The Golen Bough


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Copyright 2009 © Ronald W. Hull