A Digit Here, A Digit There

By Rick Horowitz

Beardstown Ladies sing this song,
Doo-dah, doo-dah,
Ladies got their numbers wrong,
All the doo-dah day.

Thought they'd seen the light,
Thought they'd found the way,
Trust your money to the amateurs,
Somebody's going to pay.

"Common sense is all it takes,"
Doo-dah, doo-dah,
Wall Street on your coffee breaks,
All the doo-dah day.

Smiles so shiny bright,
Hair so silv'ry gray,
Trust your money to the amateurs,
Somebody's going to pay.

Twenty-three percent return,
Doo-dah, doo-dah,
More than all the experts earn,
All the doo-dah day.

Sweet and so polite,
Not a word astray,
Hand your money to the amateurs,
Somebody's going to pay.

Put their methods in their book,
Doo-dah, doo-dah,
Someone took a closer look,
All the doo-dah day.

Wish with all your might,
Hope it goes away,
Toss your wallet to the amateurs,
Somebody's going to pay.

Certain digits were mislaid,
Doo-dah, doo-dah,
Nine percent is all they made,
All the doo-dah day.

"Just an oversight,"
"Don't know what to say,"
Risk your rubles with the amateurs,
Somebody's going to pay.

Beardstown Ladies, hometown smarts,
Doo-dah, doo-dah,
You'd do better tossing darts,
All the doo-dah day.

Sermon's always trite,
Ev'ry word cliche:
When you're dealing with the amateurs,
Somebody's going to pay.

3/20/98