A millionaire drove into U. S. Bank --
Parked his car, a black Cadillac,

That man, although he looked quite ordinary,
Had once lost all his money, then earned it back,

His business took place on the third floor --
Advice from his stockbroker was needed,

Just before leaving, on the main floor he stopped --
His request for parking validation went unheeded,

The lady at the teller's window politely refused --
She hadn't seen him conduct any business,

It's unlikely that she knew who the gentleman was --
In retrospect, maybe she should've guessed,

The rich man proceeded to leave forthwith --
He didn't take such treatment lightly,

He went across the street to a competitor's bank --
Open daily and sometimes nightly,

It wasn't a matter of money --
Still a quarter's a quarter, even now,

The man didn't get where he was, after all,
By throwing money at the NASDAQ or the Dow,

He opened a new account very quickly --
In his mind U. S. Bank's name was Mud,

He wrote a million-dollar check and a deposit slip --
It hit ONB's successor with a thud.

by D. Edgar Murray 05/12/2000.