On Being Broke

Do n't mind being broke at all,

When I can say that what I had

Was spent for toys for kiddies small

And that the spending made‘ em glad.

I do n't regret the money gone,

If happiness it left behind.

An empty purse I'll look upon

Contented, if its record's kind.

There's no disgrace in being broke,

Unless it's due to flying high;

Though poverty is not a joke,

The only thing that counts is “why?”

The dollars come to me and go;

To-day I've eight or ten to spend;

To-morrow I'll be sailing low,

And have to lean upon a friend.

But if that little bunch of mine

Is richer by some toy or frill,

I'll face the world and never whine

Because I lack a dollar bill.

I'm satisfied, if I can see

One smile that had n't bloomed before.

The only thing that counts with me

Is what I've spent my money for.

I might regret my sorry plight,

If selfishness brought it about;

If for the fun I had last night,

Some joy they'd have to go without.

But if I've swapped my bit of gold,

For laughter and a happier pack

Of youngsters in my little fold

I'll never wish those dollars back.

If I have traded coin for things

They needed and have left them glad,

Then being broke no sorrow brings —

I've done my best with what I had.