I'm a dead one, I'm a goner, see,
All my tootsies have turned brown:
No more credit, false Economy,
Watch the FTSE falling down:
All my zones are un-erogenous
Now my growth is not endogenous.
Sticky-brittle as a glue meringue,
I am dust, and I am broke,
I am merely bust-and-boomerang,
Skittled, skint, and bound to croak:
Dying here beyond our means, we can
Blame it on the dour Keynesian.
Life is grim and unenjoyable,
Tubes are phlegm-filled, veins are furred;
Every limb is unemployable
Since the market crash occurred:
Can't think straight, have turned irrational
Since our debts went international.
Wait a tick, they're contradictory –
Here's a prof who disagrees!
End of cough, and brand new victory
Over credit crunch disease:
Here's his stats! They're champagne-drinkable!
Recession? Freshen up, unsinkable!
Read the Daily Telegraph article here