Well, money has its own way, And money has to grow. It grows on human blood and bone, As any child would know. It's iron stuff and paper stuff With no life of its own, And so it takes its growing sap From human blood and bone. And many a child goes hungering Because the wage is low, And men die on the battlefield To make the money grow. And those that take the money crop Are avid without end, They plant it in the tenements To make it grow again. The little that they leave for us, It cannot be a seed. We spend it for the shoddy clothes And every daily need. We spend it in a minute, In an hour it is gone, To find its way to grow again On human blood and bone, Blood and bone.