A Wunch Of Bankers
I fail to see,
Why your blaming me,
For your misery,
When I want your happiness, and that is true.
Of course I stashed,
A load of cash,
When the market crashed,
But that's just what I'm expected to do.
I may be faceless,
But saying I'm graceless,
Is really quite tasteless,
I just have a totally unexpected view.
In my clean pressed suit,
I'm the banks recruit,
Who you'd like to shoot,
I give out loans, well maybe one or two.
I'll never budge,
Through forms I trudge,
And I like to judge,
I'll grind up your dreams until your blue.
But in the end,
You can depend,
On me as a friend,
Unless you’re poor in which case bugger you.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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