The Mercenary View

I knew a poor remittance man,
    A decent chap, but fuuny,
In days when my ideas began
   To be controlled by money
He wore a swank, patrician air;
But, oh, his life was filled with care,
For he had seldom cash to spare;
   His mien was far from sunny.

I fear I was a snobbish youth
   Who led a prig's existence.
I snubbed the chap, to tell the truth,
   And kept him at a distance.
His clothes, well cut, were often worn
Threadbare.  Tho' he was gently born
His friendship I refused with scorn
   Despite his soft insistence.

But now the whirligig of time
   Sees fit to elevate him.
While, lo, the money that was mine
   Is shrinking, seriatim;
And faced by serious mishap.
While he reclines in Fortune's lap.
I'd like to find the dear old chap
   I'd want to cultivate him.