In youth I once dreamed of wealth in extremes
Of fine robes and thirty-year wines
I hoped I’d hoard heaps of gold in my keeps
But a netchiman’s fate is mine
I bought up a herd on hearing the word
That netches fetched profits divine
Now I live stuck in the rain and the muck
And a netchiman’s fate is mine
I’m deep in arrears, and will be for years
From creatures that stink more than swine
But I found a good wife, the love of my life
So a netchiman’s fate is just fine
