Tale of a Miser

She gloates about,
her wealth no doubt,

she talks, of crystal balls,
(Her voice echoes, reverberating through the dark, empty halls).

She spends on pumps, she spends on pastel,
(My oh my, what a wastrel! ).

I heard her say, she's bought new pearls,
(Shiny and precious,than those of the Earl's.)

She's worn much of Gucci, and that of Prada,
(Says her mother,"Our savings are nada").

She sleeps on plush beds,woven in gold thread,
(Grieves her father, "we shall starve this winter, I dread").

She's got a thousand dresses, a hundred and two hats,
(The roof of the hut rattles, swishing old floor mats).

On cries the miser," Money's made me bold."
(Says her brother," Worry not sister, we won't die out cold").

I wonder,oh yes,I wonder, why do you speak thus,
Of diamonds and rubies,when your mind says,"it will pass." ?