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!!

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