An Old Friend

Long lived a lad who leaned
Neither on his intuition or instincts just his greed
One eyed monster he was
And his eyeballs popped out of its socket like thick gloss
His arms were thick and well woven
And his protruding chest floated out in mid heaven
It is strange to note that he was a pasel tongue
But his voice was so hoarse that he seldomly sung
None could be compared to his physique
But he was weak like a drunken freak
He was a father who preached virtue
But his life had gone so bad like rotten lettuce
He was not all evil though
Just that his banks interest only yielded a dozen foes