Such heaps of fine friends

Did ever one man have such heaps of fine friends?
Such bosom acquaintances on whom he depends?
A circle of confidants responsive to all his wants?
That friendship that always wants the hand he extends?

 It fills my heart with pride to know that there exists
An open fraternity of love that persists
Nothing’s as comforting as–
You can always tell who has–
The man sleeps well who has–
Such heaps of fine friends

A man in mourning clothes
Another in gray
Another in business suit all heading our way
A doctor of herbs is due in snuff-colored, tan surtout
It's enough to give answer to this surly survey

You overlooked the man primarily in red
Whose name ends, like all the rest, with “man”, so he said
We only forced him to add the colleagues he never had
No beggar ever had such heaps of fine friends

Did ever beggar have such heaps of fine
Friendly accomplices on whom he depends?
A circle of “con” confidants responsive to all his wants?
That friendship that always wants the hand he extends?

 It fills my heart with pride to know that there exists
You bet your life there exists
An open fraternity of love that persists
An open, clear-cut alternative to slashing your wrists

There’s nothing as comforting as
Such heaps of–but, hell who has such
such fine-feathered–well, who has
Such heaps of fine friends