Money I do not make

With the money I do not make I run errands. Up and down the town, in the scorching sun, I pursue my master�s desires.

The money that I do not make fills my pockets at dawn and by dusk I return with not a cent left. Extravagant, thief, he calls me. My master says I do not know the value of money since I do not sweat for it.

But my master forgets how I sweat with his money as I move about the streets loaded like a donkey. Cursed is that money but blessed is my master for he has it.

H.Lule