(Hofstede) Only rich men can buy Things the poor man can make You've got nothing And they've got plenty Like a tree falling down Hits a grape on the ground They will crush the poor man's head In books You can sit beside everyone In deckchairs travel an ocean In books You're a queen for the afternoon Till the husband steps inside Tons of ink Make millions think Tons of ink Make you think Is it you love is this true love Is it you I'm thinking of love Is it your lip it's a tulip Is it you I'm thinking of Tons of ink Make millions think Tons of ink Make you think Only poor men can read All the papers they need In the dustbins of the town
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Copy to Clipboard: (Hofstede) Only rich men can buy Things the poor man can make You've got nothing And they've got plenty Like a tree falling down Hits a grape on the ground They will crush the poor man's head In books You can sit beside everyone In deckchairs travel an ocean In books You're a queen for the afternoon Till the husband steps inside Tons of ink Make millions think Tons of ink Make you think Is it you love is this true love Is it you I'm thinking of love Is it your lip it's a tulip Is it you I'm thinking of Tons of ink Make millions think Tons of ink Make you think Only poor men can read All the papers they need In the dustbins of the town
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