  OH, Goschen, hear us groan, Relieve our burdened backs; We weep and wail and moan, “Reduce the income tax!” It is a wicked plan, And decency it lacks; It makes a Christian man Say, “Hang the income tax!” Poor Job, he had to bear Some very nasty smacks, But nothing to compare With this infernal tax. Not all his pains and aches Could put him in a wax; But he’d have shouted, “Snakes!” If asked for income tax. Oh, take the curse away, The cruel curse that racks: Why should free Britons pay This most un-British tax? For years has raged the fight, Be yours the cry of “Pax,” And, Britain’s wrongs to right, Remove the income tax. On earth that deed shall dwell Till all creation cracks, And Fame’s last trumpet tell How Goschen killed the tax. Do this, and you will forge A deathless battle-axe For England’s new St. George Who slew the income tax. |
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