Thirteen seeds in a beggar's hand.
Sun comes free, but he ain't got land.
He won't get a plot of his own
till he's buried without a stone.
But, beggar - he's a thinkin' man.
Keeps road dust in a coffee can.
Gathers dirt wherever he goes,
and that beggar man plants and grows
his thirteen seeds.
Thirteen seeds in a Folger's can
are treasure to the beggar man.
Then the guvmint screams "taxes owed!"
and comes to take the "land" he stole,
leavin' him with nothin' to show
for thirteen seeds.
For Mary's Challenge at Real Toads