The Blood Of A Tax-Paying Man

If you’re a hustler come and sell me your magic beans
I’ll give you my prize cow and I’ll die beyond my means
I’ll climb up to the skies and steal some golden eggs
I’ll chop down that old beanstalk before the big man eats my legs

I’ll live off of his money like a thief, a common crook
Before the real monsters come and take half of what I took
They’ll be on my doorstep with a first and final demand
Give us your money and make it quick it’s for the good of all the land

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a taxpayer”
Be he live, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a taxpayer”
Be he live, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

So keep your empty promises and keep your magic beans
I’ll keep my cow and feed myself and I’ll live within my means
I’ll drink its milk and munch on greens and raise a crop or two
It’s honest work and with any luck I’ll live and I’ll make do

They’ll still be on my doorstep but I’ll say that I have none
I might have had some money once but now it’s surely gone
Just go to the big man way up in the sky
He’s got a nugget laying hen that you can pluck until its dry

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a taxpayer”
Be he live, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a taxpayer”
Be he live, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

Copyright 2015. Words and music by F.N. de Boer

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