In every time we trade,There's a coin in our pockets,From goods often that are made,It's pricey than some lockets.A paper that we all used,Sometimes it is important,Sometimes it's all for to boast,But in the wrong hands it can't.It's the root of evil,But to be shared for others,Some must have say it's a deal,But for trade as one bothers.Some are very rich indeed,While some are unfortunate,But it's not all cash as to bid,It's what's within your heart, mate.Richness in cash is nothing,Nor the properties each yield,Richness in the heart hushing,It's like crops in the field.Sometimes we try to earn much,For the future, and our goals,Though if we work hard to clutch,It will be paid off no holes. But with this inflation, How high are all the prices?When grains cost a ration,Now it cost as mere spices.