Here you will find the Poem Aunt Jane of poet Robert William Service
When Aunt Jane died we hunted round, And money everywhere we found. How much I do not care to say, But no death duties will we pay, And Aunt Jane will be well content We bilked the bloody Government. While others spent she loved to save, But couldn't take it to her grave. While others save we love to spend; She hated us but in the end Because she left no Testament To us all her possessions went. That is to say they did not find A lawyer's Will of any kind. Yet there was one in her own hand, A Home for Ailing Cats she planned. Well, you can understand my ire: Promptly I put it in the fire. In misery she chose to die, Yet we will make her money fly. And as we mourn for poor Aunt Jane The thought alleviates our pain: Perhaps her savings in the end Gave her more joy than we who spend.