Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

MERCHANT BANKERS

In olden days, those golden days,

When trust was the public watchword,

Lubricating work-worn wheels

And not just some hotchpotch word,

 

As safe as the Bank of England, sir!

Were words you could rely on,

And those safeguarding public wealth

We never dreamt to spy on.

 

But times can change - my, how they change,

And beyond banking's portals

Those one-time paragons of trust

Now sin liike mere mortals.

 

Oh where, pray, have their god-like traits

Departed - and so quickly...

And whither all our precious cash

To leave us feeling sickly?

 

No more the banker's stern rebuke,

No more the close perusal,

Instead, they've turned to gambling

And that sees no refusal.

 

But unlike the likes of you and I

Whose similar behaviour

Would surely land us in the clink

Without a likely saviour

 

The bankers rub their hands in glee

And turn to government allies

For more of our dough to save their skins

As fast as the official ink dries.

 

The banks that lost our hard-earned cash,

They insist must be protected,

And to their aid the MPs dash -

Was anything else expected?

 

But when again the profits come,

Will we see any of our money?

Will they repay what they've gambled away?

And NO, I'm not being funny!!

........................................................................ 

◄ WATERBOARDING

LOVE'S NOT A WORD I CARE ABOUT ►

Comments

Profile image

Martin Peacock

Tue 27th Mar 2012 15:37

A cracking denunciation of these long-overdue-for-a-flogging anchors [there's so many euphemisms we could use, aren't there?]. I'd say hang the lot but there's not enough rope...

...cheers for the comments re: 'A Sibling's Prerogative, by the way. Much obliged, MC.

Profile image

M.C. Newberry

Tue 27th Mar 2012 14:37

Those familiar with rhyming slang will interpret the title.
I've been a bank customer for fifty years and
came to understand the change from stalwart
public figure of repute to profit prophet when
trying to get a small business started using
a modest overdraft facility while approaching
retirement and finding myself mercilessly
"hammered" for exceeding my "limit" by a few
quid - despite the laudable reasons. My many
years with the bank and the money they had made
from me in that time counted for nought. At
THAT moment I was of little value to them.
Subsequent reports of their reckless risks came
as no surprise.

<Deleted User> (10123)

Tue 27th Mar 2012 13:30

Is there a poem out there that doesn't gripe about the "wonderful" work of the bankers (spell it with a 'W') The difference now is that they've been exposed! Ta much for bringing this out for us, Nick.

Profile image

Larisa Rzhepishevska

Mon 26th Mar 2012 18:24

And the beginning is really beautiful: In old days, those golden days... It's a song.

Profile image

Larisa Rzhepishevska

Mon 26th Mar 2012 18:15

Great poem! And ...so true. But...we are all look funny.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message