An Ode to The Puppeteers

Your marionettes, so nimble, so well known.
The show's real cool when that fat lady sings
Those moody blues to mellow toned trombones.
But tell us, who is it who pulls the strings?
The Quiz-Master with twinkling eyes, smiles sweet.
He tells us, we could win the million prize.
That honey coloured blond is baking cakes.
The treacle tart looks good enough to eat.
Now folks it's time to watch some exercise.
Our team is hot and starts to overtake.
The fans around the ground they cheer and sing
But tell us, who is it who pulls the strings?

Your puppets play on every earthly stage,
Gathering gold to buy our very souls,
Sowing lies and hatred, cruel wars to wage,
So will you tell us who's waggling those poles.
Your story's plot is evil through and through,
With poor men, small men sweating blood with tears
You oil the cogs within the wheels of states,
You grease the palms of judges turned askew.
Do off-script dummies spoil the atmosphere?
No sweat, get someone who assassinates.
We've watch this show so long and feel real sick.
But soon we'll know who's jiggerling those sticks.

Scheming schemes behind the scenes to mislead,
While masters, minions, machinators act.
You are deceived to believe you succeed.
All crime is seen, that is a divine fact.
On judgment day, for you no hiding place.
Bitter grapes of wrath all your crew will taste.
Your palaces and prisons all laid waste.
No more strings to pull or poles to jiggle.
Though awhile you were an evil riddle,
Your very memory will be erased.

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