Hoist By Their Own Petards!
There was a crooked man who once, robbed a high street bank;
He started with a simple plan, one that simply stank!
He got a job and worked his way, right up to the top,
As he trousered more and more, he found he couldn’t stop.
The crooked man within the bank, knew it inside out;
He set about creating there, troughs to put his snout,
Made it look like all was well, like it was meant to be
When the ancient institution traded ethically.
Subversively and bit by bit, incrementally,
He altered practices within, fundamentally;
No-one noticed it at first, but by the time they had,
Quite a few of them had also turned out rather bad!
By now a culture had set in, where the general rule
Was anyone who rocked the boat, would have been a fool;
Because the system now in place made them so much cash,
And no one in their wildest dreams, predicted it would crash.
Dishonesty and greed were at, customers’ expense,
The bank projecting values which, were simply a pretence!
Venerated, well established, trusted name of course;
Just like every high street bank, it was a powerful force.
The bank had worldwide influence, very much respected;
What was happening within, never was suspected.
But then one day the bubble burst, an economic dip;
Revealing very little more, than a simple slip.
A complicated instrument, based on dodgy bets,
A sub prime mortgage overload, underwritten debts,
Who’d have thought that little breeze, would have escalated
Into a storm that blew it down, and still is unabated?
The chickens have come home to roost, that is what we say;
Bankers have to do their best to justify their pay.
We watched them pocket vast amounts, while we struggled on,
Suspecting all the time there was, something very wrong.
Aston Martins, Porsches, yachts, and massive properties,
Every banker seemed to have won several lotteries,
But now we know what we all thought, rotten from the top;
They’ve hit the buffers and the buck, somewhere has to stop!
Banks are being fined today, but this is not enough,
It is the people at the helm with whom we must be tough;
Those who are responsible, and those who acquiesced,
Must be hauled up to the courts, where they can be assessed.
Temptation often leads us to, want a banker’s head,
But penance and contrition might do quite well instead.
Guilty of corruption and, many years of pinching,
They’d be very lucky to, avoid a public lynching!
There was a crooked man who once, robbed a high street bank;
He started with a simple plan, one that simply stank!
He got a job and worked his way, right up to the top,
As he trousered more and more, he found he couldn’t stop.
The crooked man within the bank, knew it inside out;
He set about creating there, troughs to put his snout,
Made it look like all was well, like it was meant to be
When the ancient institution traded ethically.
Subversively and bit by bit, incrementally,
He altered practices within, fundamentally;
No-one noticed it at first, but by the time they had,
Quite a few of them had also turned out rather bad!
By now a culture had set in, where the general rule
Was anyone who rocked the boat, would have been a fool;
Because the system now in place made them so much cash,
And no one in their wildest dreams, predicted it would crash.
Dishonesty and greed were at, customers’ expense,
The bank projecting values which, were simply a pretence!
Venerated, well established, trusted name of course;
Just like every high street bank, it was a powerful force.
The bank had worldwide influence, very much respected;
What was happening within, never was suspected.
But then one day the bubble burst, an economic dip;
Revealing very little more, than a simple slip.
A complicated instrument, based on dodgy bets,
A sub prime mortgage overload, underwritten debts,
Who’d have thought that little breeze, would have escalated
Into a storm that blew it down, and still is unabated?
The chickens have come home to roost, that is what we say;
Bankers have to do their best to justify their pay.
We watched them pocket vast amounts, while we struggled on,
Suspecting all the time there was, something very wrong.
Aston Martins, Porsches, yachts, and massive properties,
Every banker seemed to have won several lotteries,
But now we know what we all thought, rotten from the top;
They’ve hit the buffers and the buck, somewhere has to stop!
Banks are being fined today, but this is not enough,
It is the people at the helm with whom we must be tough;
Those who are responsible, and those who acquiesced,
Must be hauled up to the courts, where they can be assessed.
Temptation often leads us to, want a banker’s head,
But penance and contrition might do quite well instead.
Guilty of corruption and, many years of pinching,
They’d be very lucky to, avoid a public lynching!
© Stephen Saunders
To book Steph'nonsense for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212
Agent / publisher wanted.
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