He thought that he'd be happy if a fortune he could make,
If he were rich he thought that he'd be gay,
He often thought it would be nice an ocean trip to take
Whenever he desired to go away.

He thought he'd be contented if he owned a motor car
And had the price to pay for gasoline;
He thought he'd like it to afford a fifty-cent cigar
And spend his time a-golfing on the green.

He used to say that he'd be glad if he could ever wear
The latest styles as soon as they appear,
He had a notion that if he were but a millionaire
His life would be one constant round of cheer.

He fell into a fortune. Now a millionaire is he,
The luxuries he yearned for all are his;
But is he quite as happy as he thought he'd really be?
Well, judging from appearances, he is.

Edgar Albert Guest

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strange-44/