If I was made of money
I’d spend myself so fast
With fingers of rolled-up £50 notes
There’s no way I would last

If my skin was made of fivers
And my bones were made of gold
And my heart was a ruby
And my eyes were emeralds

If my head contained a crystal skull
There’s no way I could survive
With wealth my body would be full
I know that I’d be spent alive

There’d be nothing for which
I’d need to beg
If it doesn’t cost more than
An arm or a leg

On the down side there is danger
When there’s money up your sleeves
You have to watch your bottom booty
Because of penny pinching thieves

But I know it wouldn’t matter
Which part of me they stole
As the part that matters most is worth less
Yet much more than money
This thing they call the soul.

If I Was Made of Money - A short funny poem about the dangers of a wealthy body.