::::::::
The Limerick is poetry’s worstNever written by those who are versed
In the headier climes
Of purposeful rhymes
But this is a moment that’s cursed
So I write of a system in chaos
Compounded by those who betray us
With promises bold
That quickly turned cold
As suddenly off they would lay us
The tag-team of Henry and Ben
Ignoring the why, where and when
Supported the bankers
Those fraudulent wankers
Making dough by a factor of ten
These guys in the pin-stripey suits
Standing drinks at the bar in cahoots
All covered each other
While running for cover
And bailing with gold parachutes
So Paulson came in with the facts
And a plan to bail out Goldman Sachs
Details were obscure
The Congress unsure
So he fed them a bevy of snacks
If you look to be healed of your pain
And be rid of this terrible stain
Then let me assure
Those who made you poor
Will do it again and again
So what the hell can we do
To stay out of this simmering stew
I’m afraid it’s too late
The rich have all ate
And left dirty dishes for you
Wall Street was rolling in dough
With too few good places to go
With derivatives dicey
And way over-pricey
Investors lined up at the do
It mattered not what they were fed
Or how by the nose they were led
Liar-loans soared
And the money it poured
To the monsters under the bed
A slim retribution remains
On this tablecloth covered with stains
Paulson’s friends who all wail
Should be sent off to jail
And we’ll count that as capital gains
