Son, son, we've got to run away from inheritance
Son, son, I must allow you to learn of sustenance

None of you will ever see a penny
Of my ill-begotten wealth
Stick around
You will see a rich man cry

I wish, I wish for you a lifetime of labour
Hard days make peaceful nights

None of you will ever see a penny
Of my ill-begotten wealth
Stick around
You will see a rich man cry