At the Millionaire’s Ball
We don’t wait, we don’t stall,
But we step right on in to the dancing.
There are furs flung about,
And bright stones brightly shout,
While the eyes of the wise are romancing.

It is Millionaire’s Night,
And it’s theme is Delight,
And the dancers are flying so gladly;
For life’s waltz, it is theirs,
And is named “Millionaires”,
And fierce competence never does badly.

Now slim bankers swing in,
And tall factory men,
And hard owners of mines and of oil.
They are dressed to the theme,
And so right gallant seem
That you never would guess they knew toil.

Oh, their confidence great,
Their sharp eyes elate,
Pure sense of “I master each thing.”
Now each searches the crowd
For those women un-bowed,
And Lo! every where they are standing!

Then hands touch and feet spin,
And new dances begin,
And the Millionaire’s Ball is not less
Than the height of delight
For producers of might
Who are masters of happy success!

Now a silence, a pause,
And steps forth—Santa Claus!
And he carries a gift for just one.
Then he says, “Joy, come here!
Most productive this year,
I do place on your head this gold crown.

“For the millions you’ve made
From inventions high grade,
You have lifted man higher than all,
And integrity true,
It is steeled now in you,
As it matches this Millionaires Ball.”

Then loud cheers, with Joy’s sums,
From proud Everyone comes,
And the orchestra soars up in power.
And that crown sways around,
Ever light, yet profound,
In the Millionaire’s Night’s last hour.

Oh, outside there is storm
Around many a fleet form,
And the dark huddles back from the lighting,
And the millionaire’s cars
Zip on off like hot stars,
For their drivers are wired “exciting!”