Seema (Border) Babu Model
My military friend has taken discharge
from the uniformed services and
returned back to his home town
pension account with state bank
purchased landed assets for a lump sum
keeping a portion reserved for himself -
to start a own business, on a small scale.
several of his friends pestered him for a clean loan
with solemn promise of punctual repayment
frequent visits by very distant relatives
with unsolicited ideas for instant earnings
some agents circled him with pamphlets, attractive tables,
for rearing Emu, Goats, Milk shed, duck, chicks, & puppies
vultures closeting with the lure of very fatty interest
promises of money getting doubled every six months
my sepoy friend came running to me
to suggest a way out from all this perils
I gathered all his savings and placed them
In joint deposits with his wife & children
besides regular pension, quarterly interest comes in handy
liberal but, budgeted living, regulated spending in army canteen
consent of wife for every pay out - based on his sound background
bank assisted him to set up a stationery business,
now he is a ‘mallick' (owner)
peaceful and satisfied, the ex-BSF havildar, walks upright in full pride
no greedy desires, nor quick money ‘laluch' (temptation)
in enjoyment of faithful toil along the porous Bangla borders
sacrifices made &services rendered, in reward,
the present day status,
the entire village is proud of him,
citing ‘SEEMA BABU MODEL'.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Related quotes
A College Going Daughter's Prayer
Lord put money in my bank
And I shall call and earnestly thank
Ma who pestered Pa to bend
To her whims and bitterly end
The fight for money in my bank.....
Ma has told him it is less
What she calls the daughter's cess
For panties, knickers and monthly chum
Things so dear they hardly come
With the money in my bank........
My account should always overflow
And on my face there be a glow
I can then, dream to start
To fulfill the desires of my heart
With the money in my bank......
My sisters' told them I am down
With a viral that's profound
I am ill and need to eat
Medicines, cherries, grapes and sweets
With the money in my bank.....
Send me Lord some pleasing news
Of good money I can use
I shall end to feign and faint
Then douse the town in crimson paint
With the money in my bank
2003
poem by Ravinder Malhotra
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A system of capitalism presumes sound money, not fiat money manipulated by a central bank. Capitalism cherishes voluntary contracts and interest rates that are determined by savings, not credit creation by a central bank.
The Scam Continued
My bank account ha ha,
I think not
My identification photo
Again I say go play with a rubber duck or something
For I'm not the ignorant fool that your so use to.
Maybe I should make up a bank name, a number, a address, a send the a random photo of a friend.
And see what happens
For it might be entertaining to see them pretend to be someone who has never left the country and try to access a bank account that does not exist.
For they are going to do one thing that is clean out your bank out
As the man who gives everything shouts, I have been ripped off.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Money, Money
My baby gives me the finance blues, tax me to the limit of my revenues.
Here she comes finger-poppin, clickety-click
She says furs or diamonds, you take your pick.
She wants money, what she wants, she wants money, what she wants,
She wants money, what she wants, she wants money, what she wants,
Money money, money money money. money money, money money money.
She say, money, honey, Id rob a bank,
I just load my gun and mosey down to the bank.
Knockin off my neighborhood savings and load,
To keep my sweet chiquita in eau de cologne.
She wants money, what she wants, she wants money, what she wants,
Money money, money money money. money money, money money money.
Mama dont send me down to rob that bank again,
I got a notion that your leadin me to sin.
Wont you relax, wont you lay way back,
Dont you bug your honey bout no cadillac.
Its only bucks, you dont need no jack.
So wont you please relax and lay way back.
My babys lovin gives me such a thrill;
It gives me inspiration makin counterfeit bills.
Now some folks say the best things in life are free,
She wants money, what she wants, she wants money, what she wants,
Money money, money money money. money money, money money money.
Lord made a lady out of adams rib, next thing you know, you got womens lib.
Lovely to look upon, heaven to touch;
Its a real shame that they got to cost so much.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reconstruction
So, the bank has bust it's boiler! And in six or seven year
It will pay me all my money back -- of course!
But the horse will perish waiting while the grass is germinating,
And I reckon I'll be something like the horse.
There's the ploughing to be finished and the ploughmen want their pay,
And I'd like to wire the fence and sink a tank;
But I own I'm fairly beat how I'm going to make ends meet
With my money in a reconstructed bank.
"It's a safe and sure investment!" But it's one I can't afford,
For I've got to meet my bills and bay the rent,
And the cash I had provided (so these meetings have decided)
Shall be collared by the bank at three per cent.
I can draw out half my money, so they tell me, from the Crown;
But -- it's just enough to drive a fellow daft --
My landlord's quite distressed, by this very bank he's pressed,
And he'll sell me up, to pay his overdraft.
There's my nearest neighbour, Johnson, owed this self-same bank a debt,
Every feather off his poor old back they pluck't,
For they set to work to shove him, and they sold his house above him,
Lord! They never gave him time to reconstruct.
And their profits from the business have been twenty-five per cent,
Which, I reckon, is a pretty tidy whack,
And I think it's only proper, now the thing has come a cropper,
That they ought to pay a little of it back.
I have read about "reserve funds", "banking freeholds", and the like,
Till I thought the bank had thousands of assets,
And it strikes me very funny that they take a fellow's money
When they haven't got enough to pay their debts.
And they say they've lent my money, and they can't get paid it back.
I know their rates per cent were tens and twelves;
And if they've made a blunder after scooping all this plunder,
Why, they ought to fork the money out themselves.
So all you bank shareholders, if you won't pay what you owe,
You will find that on your bank will fall a blight;
And the reason is because it's simply certain that deposits
Will be stopped, the bank will bust, and serve you right!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Two Bicycles
when I was a little boy
of 14 years of age,
I desired to have a
‘Admiral' small 18' bicycle
to attend school,
roughly 4 kms. away.
promise after promise,
for every Christmas and birthdays,
yet, the cycle never turned up
my school days, were by then over
I joined a college hostel in a small town
Fees, books, dress, hostel deposit and allied
my father had paid them all, without any murmur
at the end of the degree course, I passed out with distinction
joined the bank at a remote village, as cash-cum-accounts clerk
by the grace of bank, festival advance Rs.150-
cycle advance of Rs.300
………the dream came true, after a lapse of nine good years
Brand new ‘Raleigh' Green, in colour-full other fittings
with dynamo, my name and address painted in bold yellow
on touching the cycle, my nerves trembled
and tears rolled down, as I pedaled down to my home
for seeking my parents' blessings, with an unbiased mind.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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The Premier and the Socialist
The Premier and the Socialist
Were walking through the State:
They wept to see the Savings Bank
Such funds accumulate.
"If these were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be great."
"If three financial amateurs
Controlled them for a year,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That they would get them clear?"
"I think so," said the Socialist;
"They would -- or very near!"
"If we should try to raise some cash
On assets of our own,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That we could float a loan?"
"I doubt it," said the Socialist,
And groaned a doleful groan.
"Oh, Savings, come and walk with us!"
The Premier did entreat;
"A little walk, a little talk,
Away from Barrack Street;
My Socialistic friend will guide
Your inexperienced feet."
"We do not think," the Savings said,
"A socialistic crank,
Although he chance just now to hold
A legislative rank,
Can teach experienced Banking men
The way to run a Bank."
The Premier and the Socialist
They passed an Act or so
To take the little Savings out
And let them have a blow.
"We'll teach the Banks," the Premier said,
"The way to run the show.
"There's Tom Waddell -- in Bank finance
Can show them what is what.
I used to prove not long ago
His Estimates were rot.
But that -- like many other things --
I've recently forgot.
"Advances on a dried-out farm
Are what we chiefly need,
And loaned to friends of Ms.L.A.
Are very good, indeed,
See how the back-block Cockatoos
Are rolling up to feed."
"But not on us," the Savings cried,
Falling a little flat,
"We didn't think a man like you
Would do a thing like that;
For most of us are very small,
And none of us are fat."
"This haughty tone," the Premier said,
"Is not the proper line;
Before I'd be dictated to
My billet I'd resign!"
"How brightly," said the Socialist,
"Those little sovereigns shine."
The Premier and the Socialist
They had their bit of fun;
They tried to call the Savings back
But answer came there none,
Because the back-block Cockatoos
Had eaten every one.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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It Is Thanks To Money
It is thanks to money that he has a beautiful young wife
And it is thanks to money that he lives the good life
And though he earned his fortune in the honest way
Money speaks every language as some like to say.
It is thanks to money that others him do admire
And of singing his praises some cannot seem to tire
Were he a retired working class fellow few of him would know
You win more admirers as your bank account grow.
In his early seventies his young wife his wife number three
With him she will never know of poverty
A dark haired beauty of twenty five the same age as his oldest grand-son
Money does speak every language when all is said and done.
Together they walk hand in hand down the street
His gray hair dyed dark brown so full of self conceit
He is a self made multi millionaire for to give him his due
But that money speaks every language happens to be true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Big Money
More info about this song in the song database
My older brother tommy was a lineman rest his soul
His job was hanging hot wires on them high-line power poles
Every morning bright and early hed climb way up in the sky
And I never understood it so one day I asked him why
Chorus:
He said it pays big money and man Im into that
It pays big money if youre willing to take a chance
Let me tell you something sonny, you ought to see my bank account
It pays big money but he sure cant spend it now
Well, my late uncle charlie was this demolition hound
Hed travel across the country blowing buildings to the ground
He carried a case of dynamite seemed everywhere he went
He smoked them big long cigars and hed wink at you and grin
Repeat first chorus
Well now the moral of this story boys, is dont go getting yourself killed
Be kind to your rich relatives they just might put you in their will
Chorus:
That pays big money and were all into that
It pays big money and big moneys where its at
Let me tell you something sonny, you ought to see my bank account
It pays big money and were rolling in it now
Chorus:
It pays big money having foolish kin
It pays big money guess I owe it all to them
Let me show you something sonny, take a look at this bank account
It pays big money; lets all spend some of it now
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parasites On The Telephone
Everyday someone thinks of some new scam
to get money out of you.
How to fleece your bank account
with your consent.
Some tell you about a free holiday
to a fabulous destination
that you have been chosen for or won.
So listen to their speal.
Then they start asking about your bank details
and whether you have a credit card or not.
Once they start asking you that,
your best bet is to put the telephone down.
For once, you’ve given your details
over the telephone
you’ve given them permission
to fleece your account
for everything its worth and more.
20 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Meeting
Today I met a very old friend
I hadn't seen in years;
We sat and poured out memories
Into each other's ears.
We swapped a hundred stories
Of how we'd fared since school,
When he had been so clever,
And I had seemed a fool.
He said he recollected
How he remembered me,
And what I used to look like
When we were in 3 B.
I don't suppose he realized
That he had changed as well;
He didn't give it any thought
As far as I could tell.
But Howard looked so different,
His hair as grey as ash;
It lent the man a genteel air,
As did his grey moustache.
My friend was once a business man,
Successful in his field;
But I possessed no bank-account,
Nor any power to wield.
And manifest upon the brow
Of Howard Jones, my friend,
Were lonely lines of worry
No money could amend.
For happiness cannot be bought
No matter what men say;
And Howard was a loser
With no jokers left to play.
The joy of power and money
Had filled his greedy heart,
'Til Howard and his 'happiness'
One day, like we, did part.
Written May 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
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Oh.........those Teachers
OH………THOSE TEACHERS
There are several one ways
a few make road sense ‘as traffic rules'
those borrowings friends do wantonly default
and numerous outgo, we ourselves often forgot
though married, most of us love for a second phase
forbidden love never comes to the fore
so, is the case with our beloved children
of late, wanting to pair up to their own selection
The timely help that someone renders
But, we fail to re-duplicate the same kindness
somehow our selfis h soul is happy at the benefits
that we knowingly discredit by such one way practice
Patience, alms, sacrifices, tolerance and so on
are one way or other the hallmarks of good signs
like the most dedicated teacher's forty years' service
receives nothing in return…………except a small pension.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Nasty Life
My friend
Married newely...
Fight to fight
Every his wife...
Wife did not
Interest in sex...?
Sex is not
Impreess wife
With husband...
So...
Fights going...
One day crying...
One day lough...
One day sad...
Life move boor
With boor...
My friend wife
Run for mohter's house...
My friend woory...
Pray for god...
Temple to temple...
The family problem is
Not sable...
Months are going...
Years are going...
My friend wife did
Not come...
Move the life...
Husband one side...
Wife one side...
It is life...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Life (Salt Of Life 3) (Being Content With)
I worked for money.
I talked about money.
I played game of money.
I dreamed of money.
My life was all money,
though I had plenty.
I was not happy,
because I was greedy.
My life was successful but I was not satisfied,
so it became so dry.
Not knowing how to be content with what I had,
Always feeling my bank account was 1 million less.
One day when the stock market crashed,
I felt a severe pain in my chest,
caused by AM I which lead me to death.
For my whole life, I had been accumulating wealth,
which I couldn't take with me to the grave
With even a large sum of money, my life couldn't be saved.
'Being content with ' is exactly Salt of Life,
and a powerful treatment recipe for a greedy heart.
(AMI =acute myocardial infarct, a form of heart disease that kills)
Small businesses provide 75 percent of new U.S. jobs and are the backbone of our economy, and no outdated ban should be keeping small business owners from collecting the same interest their money could earn if it were held by an individual.
A Short Report
It was a short report
on the third page
somewhere near the bottom
an elderly woman
living alone
no relatives
or at least none nearby
no friends
or at least none that cared.
She had some money
how much they didn't say.
She walked down the high street
giving it away.
The social services got involved
put her in a home
doped her with pills
found someone to manage her money.
She can live on it for years and years.
But if the money's hers
why shouldn't she give it away
does giving have to mean
you're either senile or insane?
poem by Gillian Commerford
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Aarella
I love my child and my work,
I love my mind and my work,
So try and let me know if you love me too.
It is very strange!
I set up a business and my close friends are not interested in it;
But, they only wait for me to send them free sums of money.
Aarella, my friends are only interested in my money!
But, they are not ready to push up this business together with me.
They only want my money but not my business,
But the very money i do send to them is from my business.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Bankers Are Just Like Anybody Else, Except Richer
This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the jackasses who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Life Convict
From the days of Socrates, the wives were cruel
Yet, we keep on to marry - thinking she is life real
No honest man will say that he is happy
At his wife, with her given habits and life styles
Seamless love is a very distant dream
With a ever quarreling wife by your side
The desires for a joyous, peaceful, spotless stream
Can only be a mirage, washed down by the endless tides
And so, we distract the bridegroom on deceptive importance
With uneasy suit, garlands, flood lights, smoke, sound & rituals
To ensure that he remains blind-folded at least that day
Till he walks into the treacherous trap ….as a LIFE CONVICT.
poem by Santhana Louis
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Money
Money
Money
Money
Important
Useful
Necessary
Money
Money
Money
Wealthy
Middle
Poverty
Money
Money
Money
Save
Give
Spend
Money
Money
Borrow
Lend
Money
Money
Foe
Friend
Money
Money
Master
Slave
Money
Money
Satisfied
Crave
Money
Money
Laugh
Cry
MoneyMoney
Live
Die
Money
Money
Sick
Well
Money
Money
Heaven
Hell
poem by Howard Simon
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