All Your Riches
Drew James © 1999
All Rights Reserved

Willie tips his hat to the ladies in the laundromat
As the sun shines off the top of his head
He’s just passing through 34th Avenue
With its shop windows lined end to end
They’ve got business boy suits and black Spanish boots
And gadgets on the layaway plan
But nothin’ that competes with a day at the beach
And a wine speckled nap in the sand

Chorus:
All your riches ain’t made of gold
And them greenbacks ‘ll make you grow cold
All that treasure you store only makes you want more
Ain’t no pockets on the pants of your soul
All your riches ain’t made of gold

Willie’s extended holiday began on one sunny day
And has lasted way past 20 years
Every morning’s like new though there’s nothin’ to do
But to dangle his feet off the pier
And the cop on the beat will tap Willie’s feet
To roust him up just before dawn
But then pass right on by without battin’ an eye
As Willie bums change with this song

Chorus

When his holiday’s done and his place in the sun
Is taken as time marches on
We’ll all forget how much change filled his hat
But we’ll always remember his song

I left my car by the creekside
I’ve got it carefully planned

Chorus
Ain’t no pockets on the pants of your soul
All your riches ain’t made of gold