I’m sorry for me.
    My daddy owns no aeroplanes; I can’t fly through the sky.
He doesn’t have a limousine, with a chauffeur standing by.
    To drive me lo my school each day, and make my schoolmates sigh
Because they have lo walk to school, like common folks, while I
    Speed by in luxury, and perhaps, pass the scornful eye
Of those who plod along .

We leave no mansion grand
    With many rooms, and many servants under our command.
We do not have a butler, and we do not have a chef
    To cook up strange, expensive food for my folks and myself.
I do not have a maid to bring my breakfast to my bed,
    To clean my room, or help me dress, to comb my curly head.

My mother has no jewels, fur coats, or diamond rings.
    She doesn’t own a ball team, race track – or anything .
It seems that we have nothing, and that we’re very poor.
    And some folks just have all the luck . Of that I’m sure.
Well, Now, let’s see.

My mother says I’m foolish to be envying folks with wealth.
    ‘Cause I am richer far than they, for I have perfect health.
I do not need a limousine; I have strong legs and feet.
    And I can hop and skip and jump, and run fast down the street.
I have two bright and shining eyes which serve me day and night.
     And millions could not buy for me that gift of priceless sight.

Some folks rich as Croesus (who was he, anyway?)
    Are limited in their diet, and must live on toast and tea.
Well, I can eat just anything, and Mom has always said
     We do not need a butler, or a chef, to be well-fed.
Breakfast in bed is lazybones, and that is a disgrace.
     And I can surely dress myself, and wash my own tanned face .

Mom doesn’t want a fine fur coat, for some animals must give
    Their lives for it unwillingly, to please her vanity.
And diamonds are gaudy; she prefers bare hands instead,
     And she would feel quite foolish with a tie-ara on her head.

Some rich folks send their children off to school and far away,
    So that the parents can be free to laugh and dance and play .
But she and daddy think their children are really treasures rare;
    They want to keep us safe at home, and give us loving care .
‘Til we grow up and go away to start homes of our own,
    And they hope we will remember our good times when we’re grown.

I’m glad I’m me.
    Aeroplanes are dangerous, and they clutter up the sky.
I don’t want an old limousine; let them all go speeding by.
    I’d rather walk to school with friends, than ride there all alone.
And have no friend that I could really call my own.

We are not poor, we’re just not rich, and rich folks live in fear,
    For well they know that kidnappers may be lurking near.
Us Children have a lot of fun and wouldn’t want to be
    Shoved off to school because our parents wanted to be free.
Rich kids must be unhappy, and I do not want their pelf.
    I’d not change place with one of them. I’d rather be myself.
Yes, I’m glad I’m me

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