Classic Poem

As light as a fly,
In pleasant jollity:
With mirth and melody,
Sing money, money, money.
Money the minion, the spring of all joy,
Money, the medicine that heals each annoy,
Money, the jewel that man keeps in store,
Money, the idol that women adore.
That money am I, the fountain of bliss,
Whereof whoso tasteth, doth never amiss.
Money, money, money.
Sing money, money, money.