The Tax Man Cometh

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious year of 1094,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one firmly rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis not some tax man,’ God I hope not, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only it was, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I will state it is the tax code that I hate,
And each separate line deduction wrought with its ghostly sucking suction.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my banker surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost 1094 -
Or the sad and depressing moment when the tax man asked for more -
Nameless here for evermore.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!