There once was a good old man of plenty, man of plenty he.
He built him a house on the edge of the town, 
High as the tallest tree.
He built the roof of solid gold, the walls of solid clay.
& in the basement, on the floor, his wife & children lay.
"O why o  why, our father dear, o why o why," said they, 
"In such a manner must we be?  O why o why, we pray?
For such a goodly man as you to hold us here this way"
But father was not even home, to an empty house spoke they.
So there they were & there they are & there they’ll ever stay,
Beneath the biggest house in town whose master is away.
While all the riches of the world are locked away from all,
We sit beneath the world of light & wait for the master’s call.