“Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Alas, Emma’s heartfelt poem has been perverted by a rising number of rich Americans moving to tropic paradises to avoid the I.R.S. and live a tax-free life. I offer an updated version of the poem for overseas realtors to use in advertising in U.S.
Give me your retired, your mature,
Your affluent numbers yearning to be tax free,
The wealthy members of your teeming shore.
Send these shrewd buyers, aircraft tossed to me,
I offer beach sHes with benefits galore.
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