A Colorful Lie

Somewhere over the rainbow,

There's suppose to be a lot of cash.

I've looked high and I've looked low,

But with each look my hopes are dashed.

So what's with the fib about Nature's colors?

Can't she see straights I'm in?

I need some cash, not bogus gold --

Can't she even spare a fin?

I'm really ticked at the lie she told.

The bow's a useless blob.

And the worst about her tale so cold

Is now I'll have to get a job.