I’D LIKE to be a bank clerk, and sit inside a cage,
I’d like to take and hoard away the toiler’s weekly wage;
I ‘d like to sit behind a drawer with gold and greenbacks lined,
I ‘d like to read the writing on the checks rich men have signed,
It must be nice to shut up shop at 3 and cease to fret,
And then I wish that I could have the holidays they get.
I’d like to be a bank clerk, with a pen behind my ear,
To go to work at 9 and know that quitting time’s so near:
To occupy a cage in which no office bores can sit,
With nothing else to do but take in cash and care for it.
I ‘d like to be a bank clerk; that I ‘m not is my regret;
Just think of all the holidays the weary bank clerks get.
I love the name of Lincoln and the name of Washington,
I like to think about the way George made the British run;
I ‘d like to take a day off, too, to honor him, I say,
And I would also like to rest on Decoration Day;
I love this land of freedom, and I like to sing her praise,
But I wish I were a bank clerk to enjoy her holidays.
