The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Songs of Praise

O little banks of London town,
How much we've heard ye lie!
Thanks to your creed of gormless greed,
Our debts reach to the sky.
And in our dark streets shineth
This truth ye all must know:
'Twill be hard cheese when the Chinese
Collect on what we owe.

Away in a bank vault,
A safe for His bed,
The Little Lord Mammon
Laid down His fat head.
The Board of Directors
Looked down where He lay,
And gave themselves each one
An increase in pay.
I love Thee, Lord Mammon;
I ask Thee to stay
Close by me for ever;
Protect me, I pray.
Be near me, Lord Mammon
And stay by my side;
And fuck those poor bastards
Whose living has died.

Silent night, holy night!
None are calm, few are bright,
Round yon blubbering Treasury man
Screeching the only solution he can:
Spend in salary freeze!
Spend in salary freeze!

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