Wednesday, 11 February 2015

Poetry Thursday 147 - Aitch-Ess-Bee-Cey




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Aitch-Ess-Bee-Cey

I won’t tell you how I came to mon-ey
but I’m sure that it wasn’t by stealth.
I gave the cash to aitch-ess-bee-cey
and asked that they increase my wealth.

That upstanding organisation
and protector of ill-gotten gains,
came to a frightful, fiscal decision
after wracking their corporate brains.

We’ll send your cash out to the gnomes
and there it will grow – tax free.
Some in the UK may lose their homes
but that won’t concern aitch-ess-bee-cey.

Caught out alas by a whistle-blower
who nicked numbers of statements,
each with the ‘undeclared’ tax answer
on opening forms – a common constant.

UK government is in a dilemma,
what to do with the errant bank?
Aitch-ess-bee-cey named a cheater
frightening many of higher rank.

For now establishment maintains a silence
tax is being paid – I’m losing mon-ey!
Bankers are urging quiet patience
trust us here at aitch-ess-bee-cey.
© David L Atkinson February 2015

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God Bless