Well, wife, they've given us at last The postal savings banks; And we, the poor and timid folk, Will give them many thanks. For we were foolish, like as not, And stupid as a clam; We would not trust the other banks, But we'll trust Uncle Sam. Our precious thousand dollars, wife, Down underneath the floor -- It isn't much for big concerns, But it is all our store. The bulls and bears disquiet me, But mighty glad I am To trust the blue knit stocking of Our steady Uncle Sam. Our own good bank is made of tin, Beneath the carpet there. What burglar would suspect the wealth Under that rocking chair? But I will rip the flooring up, And, trusting as a lamb, I'll take those thousand dollars to Our honest Uncle Sam. For Uncle Sam, we may be sure, Will never run away; But he, and what we give to him, Are surely here to stay. No panics, bulls, or bears for him; No high-finance flim-flam. We'll trust the postal savings banks Of trusty Uncle Sam. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I READ THE BOOK by WALT WHITMAN COMMENDATORY VERSE FOR THE FAERIE QUEENE by H. B. |