I guess I should be thankful for the gasoline high prices. ‘Cuz now I don’t have money left to pamper all my vices.
While filling up my Chevy truck, to feed its appetite, the pump kept on a’pumping like there was no end in sight.
The final numbers added up, one hundred forty-three. I’m feeling for the oil baron. How does he make ends meet?
Then, I walked into the Elk Creek Store, to buy a lottery. The kind you scratch, but seldom win. Just one more vice for me.
But my wallet fell a little short. My cash was in the tank. I offered up a few choice words, to some a little rank.
All my check went in the truck to buy a tank of fuel. About right then I guess I’d never felt more like a fool.
But then I recollected, I had stuffed away some cash. A hundred in the jockey box, my secret gambling stash.
I fumbled through the glove box, but no money to my eyes. Just a stack of bills, some bottle caps, and two well-preserved French fries.
Oh yes, my Massey tractor needed fuel and diesel sure ain’t cheap. I thought I borrowed fifty, but I must have took the heap.
The pump said eighty dollars, when filling my wife’s car. I didn’t have enough cash left to buy my maple bar.
Is a maple bar a vice? I guess it tends to make you fat. So, the price of gasoline has tossed my vices to the hat.
Got no money left for gambling. Not a single dime for drink. I don’t drink anyway but if I did that sure would stink.
I tell you something’s gotta give, while filling at the pump. ‘Cuz when I’m done, I always feel a bite out of my rump.
Are there any vices out there that don’t cost an arm of cash? I doubt they’d be a worthy vice, just trumped-up balderdash.
But one thing is for certain, ‘bout these gasoline high rates. They’ve rounded up my vices. Who knows, I might see the Pearly Gates.