Give The Dog A Bonus
I am a minor banker with no blots on my escutcheon.
You promised me some butter. I will not eat margarine.
I may have helped to push the world to famine and destruction.
You may think that my payment scheme is utterly obscene.
I feel the weight, its onus.
Give me my bonus.
I am a humble worker in the House of Banking Babel.
You promised me some Lurpak. I can't subsist on spread.
I may have played a little FTSE underneath the table.
You may think I should be convicted, sentenced, and shot dead.
I see the tills, their slowness.
Give me my bonus.
I am a whizz at finance, turning trillions into tuppence.
You promised me a golden pat, and not a stash of Stork.
I may deserve opprobrium, and even some come-uppance.
You may think that I am the plank on which you're forced to walk.
I know what I am known as.
Give me my bonus.
