HOW dear to my heart is the bank roll departed,
The five-spots and tens in the strong rubber band,
The yellow boys, too, that were mine when I started,
And oft I caressed with a fatherly hand.
The wide, bulging bank roll that set my eyes popping,
The bank roll I had when we struck the hotel;
The bank roll she touched when she journeyed out shopping,
The bank roll now vanished that served us so well.
The wide, bulging bank roll, the rubber bound bank roll,
The bank roll now vanished that served us so well.
How sweet from the green, crinkled wad’t was to peel one,
And flash it about for the strangers to see;
How splendid to know that the wad was a real one,
And all it was made of belonged unto me.
Now the tear of regret in my sad eyes is welling,
Once again I am making the poverty yell;
And I sigh, as I sit in my poor, humble dwelling,
For the bank roll now vanished that served us so well,
The wide, bulging bank roll, the Michigan bank roll,
The rubber bound bank roll that served us so well.
