May this poem inspire you to want to meditate on an eternal home where there are no taxes.

Tax his cow, tax his goat;
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his crop, tax his work;
Tax his ties, tax his shirt.
Tax his chew, tax his smoke;
Teach him taxing is no joke.
Tax his tractor, tax his mule;
Tell him, “Taxing is the rule.”
Tax his oil, tax his gas;
Tax his notes, tax his cash.
Tax him good and let him know
That after taxes, he has no dough.
If he hollers, tax him more;
Tax him ’til he’s good and sore.
Tax his coffin, tax his grave,
Tax the sod ‘neath which he’s laid.
Put these words upon his tomb:
“Taxes drove him to his doom.”
After he’s gone, we won’t relax;
We’ll still collect inheritance tax.