Category: Money

The dollar may be almost finished,
But love for it is undiminished.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 27, 1951

We total up what we have spent:
How grievin’ and distressin’
To find our entire income
Is just a dollar less’nI

by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 16, 1951

Over “You can’t take it with you”
Let others stew and fret.
As you can see, that’s not for me–
I haven’t had it yet.

by Ray Romine Sunday, December 9, 1951

This term can only mean, today,
The ease with which it gets away.

by Ray Romine Thursday, August 9, 1951

I’m busy as a bee, this spring–
I mean at home, and not for money.
The bee and I thus have one thing
In comnon, sure: we work for Honey

by Ray Romine Friday, November 30, 1951

My case of claustrophobia
Is a real and genuine one,
Even unto budgets,
For I cannot live within one.

by Ray Romine Sunday, January 14, 1951

My dough’s no good until it’s spent;
Then I can wonder where it went.

by Ray Romine Thursday, May 18, 1950

Who says the principle’s the thing
Should find another song to sing;
To him with gold, or him in tatters,
Experience teaches money MATTERS!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, January 10, 1951

Why is it, I wonder, that–everytime–
I’ll spend the dime in place of the penny?
But isn’t it strange, when counting my change,
I look for the dimes–and there aren’t any?

by Ray Romine Wednesday, July 25, 1945

He’s Called “Middle Class”–the laborer:
How right! Despite persistence,
He’s too poor for his naborer,
And too rich for assistance.

by Ray Romine Saturday, September 2, 1950