IF LONESOME WAS A POT OF GOLD

If lonesome was a pot of gold,
I’d be a millionaire.
If missing you was party time,
I wouldn’t have a care.

And if a flock of memories
Could make a person sing,
I’d be an all-night radio
And play like anything.

(It’s not as though I dream about
The things we used to do;
It’s only morning, noon, and night
I sit and think of you.)