(Prompted by the collapse of the economy)
With the autumn, came The Fall
The forecast wasn’t good at all
Talk of Deep depression from mid Atlantic
Mere recession! Shrieked the PM frantic
But the storm grew and grew, and soon became
A merciless Katrina-like hurricane.
Banks washed away, the levies breached
Liquidity gone, the very foundations leached
Rich bankers rescued, saved from the fall
Some say “Let them jump!”
Others “we must donate a huge great lump”
While little people, the savers losing all.
And there’s one thing I dare not mention
The size of Frederick Goodwin’s pension!
Need credit for a house? A task?
Just forget it.
For the Loan Ranger behind his mask
Has now become a total stranger.
They do say “Credit where credit is due”,
But now our Paper banks have lost their glue
Of confidence and trust,
Like wet Papier Mache,
“What bad luck!”
The Bankers claim they have a skill
But they’re just gamblers
Who have the will,
To risk our money for their thrill.
“Sorry is the hardest word”
For a banker, so I’ve heard.
They’re even giving themselves a bonus
Without feeling the tiniest onus
Of their dark responsibility
For wiping out both you and me.
A City mans idea of Poor
Made me drop, right through the floor
When unapologetic on TV.
Bank always was a Four Letter Word
Once held high in status, now become absurd
Its dropped to infamy, from fame
Giving Self Abuse an even worser name.
Richard Epworth February 20th 2009