A SCRAMBLE for gold,
And a scurry for place,
A brief pause for loving,
A kiss, an embrace,
A ring; then the altar,
A vow to be true,
Then back to the turmoil
To scramble for two.
For man’s the provider,
And ever he strives
To care for his loved ones
And brighten their lives.
A year or so passes,
Still toiling is he,
‘A boy!’ says the doctor,
‘Now scramble for three.’
For this is the common
Experience of men,
A small raise in salary
Comes now and then.
But ever we hurry
And scramble by day,
For the fam’ly increases
As fast as our pay.
