Diamond Barclays Bank
In Britain
some families
are living
on ten pound
a day only?
According to figures
one and a half million
Britons live in severe
poverty therefore we
salute the smiling
Mr Diamond laughing.
Barclays’ Bank President
Bob has made a supreme
sacrifice and only voted
himself 9 million pounds
bonus this sacrifice year?
Please no one finger salutes
this is a thumbs down moment
vote Barley’s with your feet.
See also the poem ‘Barclays Bank Tightened Its Belt’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Barclays Bank Tightened Its Belt
Barclays
Bank
tightened
its belt
only paid out
£3.4 billion
in staff bonuses
down 7.0 percent
compared
with 2009
we salute
severity
of Barclay’s
noble sacrifice
as bad debts
fell dramatically.
Barclays cut
its staff bonuses
in line with
a government
brokered deal?
Prime Minister
David Cameron's
official spokesman
rumoured
to have received
a nice back
hander
' declined
to comment
on Barclays'
remuneration,
telling reporters:
'Clearly, Barclays'
pay policy
is ultimately
a matter
for them
and their
board.' '
Thank God for
government-brokered
deal to clamp down
on excessive pay?
Sly Barclays' Bank
pulled the wool
over public eyes
played shell game.
Thimblerig, Three shells
and a pea quick follow
swift hidden bonuses.
How was sly money paid?
“Finance minister George
Osborne said total bonuses
paid to British-based staff
of the biggest banks would
be lower than last year
as part of Project Merlin,
brokered after weeks
of talks with the Conservative
-led coalition. '
Therefore how
did sneaky Barclays
increase bonuses?
Twas slight of hand
twas slight of hand
exclaimed shiny Bob
Diamond leading band.
Watch staff bonuses
down 7.0 percent
but yes yes yes yes
total pay rose a quarter
' as this included
payments deferred
during the global
financial crisis. '
' Explaining the cut
in Barclays' bonus pot,
Diamond said:
'We are committed
to demonstrating
that we are both
responsible in our
compensation
decisions and
practices and
that we take our
regulatory
obligations and
UK government
commitments
seriously. ' Really!
American Diamond
chief executive
of Barclay’s
is infamous in Britain
' for pocketing
huge bonuses
as head of
Barclays' highly
successful investment
banking division. '
Bobby Diamond pocketed
a 9 million pounds bonus?
I say average pay
at Barclays Capital
rose from £191,000
to £236,000; does
this not rather
made a 'mockery'
of the so-called
Project Merlin?
Poor staff only
£45,000 extra
read all about it
its true its true!
Twas British families
living on ten pound
a day I rue I rue I rue.
Mere £3,650 a year
I fear I fear for their
children living in
severe poverty oh dear.
Project Merlin
is Project Miracle
for fat cat bankers
lapping up all de
cream but David
Cameron canna see
past his nose canna
see big bonuses for
irresponsible bankers
fiddling file figures is
unacceptable immoral
in moral English society
poor anger will cad rub.
See also the poem ‘Diamond Barclays’ Bank’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Calling Cards
A sorting office in the old kent road
Caters from coast to most
A nice little number if youre out of work
And arent the sort to boast,
Youre in need of a job, bob-a-job, rob-a-job
Im your man to see
Ill sit Ill listen Ill not say a word
The less said would be best for we
Ooh, what a firm of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
We dont want to mark each others card
Except the one you need
I need you and your returns to help
Build my company.
My twins work brighton on a sunny day
They cover town with the shake of a hand
On a high come back coz of no come back
Now theyre working in the promised land.
Ooh, what a pair of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
(the allied irish cyprus bank)
(india bank bank of turkey)
(united bank the peoples bank)
(to catch the worm you got to be up early)
Temporarily out of bounds had to move office
Clear out of town
For every problem theres a solution and
I can do without constitution
Dealing cards from up the old kent road
Ive been checked up on my heavy load
You can go but be back soon
Ill have some work for you to groom.
Ooh, what a lot of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
(trustees bank, barclays bank)
(the natwest bank, midland bank)
(bank of scotland, williams and glyns)
(bureau de change, the peoples bank)
Ooh, what a lot of naughty boys
Ooh, what a pair of naughty boys
Ooh, what a firm of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Bank Account
Your bank account might have a million
but your emotional account has not a zillion..
For if you place more value on money
you will not develop how to be funny, or have a honey.
For if that is your identity
you will live a life of poverty—
Poverty in the sense of 'me & me'
which is not so pretty.
Money can't buy you a lot of things,
it might get off the hook in court in the end.
But does it really buy you happiness?
Possibly if you are in the now
sometimes it's better to be a cow.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Million-Pound-Semi-Detached (Demo Recording)
Haven't we come a long way
From newly-weds in our bed-sitter flat?
We skimped and scraped every penny
For a down payment on our semi-detached.
New towns for all the young hopefuls,
A garden suburb with mortgage attached,
Oh, look at us now, sale all agreed, now it's time to exchange the contracts
With the people who sold us a million-pound semi.
Straight out of national service,
Demob suits and short back and sides,
And saw the bomb sites turned air-raid shelters,
Where their families lived all of their lives.
Then the nation built them a utopia,
With pebbledash on the outside, oh,
Look at them now, they've come a long way, they are affluent and bursting with pride.
Soon we'll be sitting inside that million-pound semi-detached,
Detached, in our million-pound semi-detached.
Looking back at the past of this million-pound semi.
Two up two down, a back garden, that was the dream,
Two kids, a cat and a dog, that was the scheme.
Then the kids both grew up and got married and moved out of home,
Then we were strangers again, together alone.
Look at us now, what are we like,
Sitting alone in our million-pound semi-detached?
They're all taking early retirement, the sum total of all of their lives.
Now the country is fat with inflation, immigration has helped us survive.
Once an Englishman's home was his castle,
Now it's a freehold investment to buy, oh,
Look at us now, our debts are all paid, and the Empire has really struck back.
We're the proud owners of a one-million-pound semi-detached,
So detached in our million-pound semi-detached.
A new generation is buying and starting anew,
And learning by all their mistakes the way people do.
Like all the young hopefuls we're buying the future from you,
We hope that one day we'll understand what you've both been through.
Look at us now, what are we like,
Sitting alone, in our million-pound semi-detached?
Look at us now, what are we like,
Sitting alone, in our million-pound semi-detached?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memorial Day 2006
It is a decent thing to grieve their loss
Their lives in unexpected Hi Lite upon history's altar
Their was no will to death
We pray their valor was a vision of service.
The young Marine with wire hands haunts me
Stopping in salute before the President's casket
His wire hands so visual a reminder of sacrifice
My mind can not escape that wire hand raised in final salute
It makes me salute the terrible loss - the unconscionable sacrifice -
Of men I have never met closer than a newspaper
And raise my trembling hand in return salute
Of an inadequate acknowledgement of debt.
poem by Bill Grace
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The Million-pound-semi-detached
Havent we come a long way
From newly-weds in our bed-sitter flat?
We skimped and scraped every penny
For a down payment on our semi-detached.
New towns for all the young hopefuls,
A garden suburb with mortgage attached,
Oh, look at us now, sale all agreed, now its time to exchange the contracts
With the people who sold us a million-pound semi.
Straight out of national service,
Demob suits and short back and sides,
And saw the bomb sites turned air-raid shelters,
Where their families lived all of their lives.
Then the nation built them a utopia,
With pebbledash on the outside, oh,
Look at them now, theyve come a long way, they are affluent and bursting with pride.
Soon well be sitting inside that million-pound semi-detached,
Detached, in our million-pound semi-detached.
Looking back at the past of this million-pound semi.
Two up two down, a back garden, that was the dream,
Two kids, a cat and a dog, that was the scheme.
Then the kids both grew up and got married and moved out of home,
Then we were strangers again, together alone.
Look at us now, what are we like,
Sitting alone in our million-pound semi-detached?
Theyre all taking early retirement, the sum total of all of their lives.
Now the country is fat with inflation, immigration has helped us survive.
Once an englishmans home was his castle,
Now its a freehold investment to buy, oh,
Look at us now, our debts are all paid, and the empire has really struck back.
Were the proud owners of a one-million-pound semi-detached,
So detached in our million-pound semi-detached.
A new generation is buying and starting anew,
And learning by all their mistakes the way people do.
Like all the young hopefuls were buying the future from you,
We hope that one day well understand what youve both been through.
Look at us now, what are we like,
Sitting alone, in our million-pound semi-detached?
Look at us now, what are we like,
Sitting alone, in our million-pound semi-detached?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you owe the bank $100 that's your problem. If you owe the bank $100 million, that's the bank's problem.
quote by J. Paul Getty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty Million Things
If it's fix a fence, find the dance
I got lots of experience
Read got sped and all the letters
Never written but don't get said
Comes from confusion
All the things I left undone
It comes from moment to moment,
Day to day, time seems to slip away
But I got twenty million things to do
Twenty million things
All I can think about is you
Well, twenty million things,
Twenty million things to do
I got mysterious,
Mysterious hanging in the air
Rocking-chair hast post to fix
Well it came undid and all the things
That I let slip I found out quick
It comes from moment to moment
Day to day and time seems to slip away
But I got twenty million things to do
Twenty million things
All I can think about is you
And twenty million, twenty million things to do
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Charge Of The Bread Brigade
Half a loaf, half a loaf,
Half a loaf? Urn-hum?
Down through the vale of gloom
Slouched the ten million,
Onward th' 'ungry blokes,
Crackin' their smutty jokes!
We'll send 'em mouchin' 'ome,
Damn the ten million!
There goes the night brigade,
They got no steady trade,
Several old so'jers know
Monty has blunder'd.
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to buy the pie,
Slouching and mouching,
Lousy ten million!
Plenty to right of 'em,
Plenty to left of 'em,
Yes, wot is left of 'em,
Damn the ten million.
Stormed at by press and all,
How shall we dress 'em all?
Glooming and mouching!
See 'em go slouching there,
With cowed and crouching air
Dundering dullards!
How the whole nation shook
While Milord Beaverbrook
Fed 'em with hogwash!
poem by Ezra Pound
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One-Finger Typist (Fun Poem 122)
I used to be a one-finger typist
and as the one finger wore down,
I discovered how to use two.
Finding that easy to score
and with the added bonus
of being able to play
chopsticks on the piano as well,
I decided to add a little bonus
and increased my fingers to three
and then on to four.
All on the same hand, I might add.
One day my left hand
feeling left in the lurch
decided it was going to join in
and my fingers typing doubled
to the number eight.
The thumbs then got jealous
and came into play.
Now both hands of fingers and thumbs
dance merrily across the keys,
but there I have a problem,
as they all want to press a key simultaneously.
Slowly words with three or four letters
were getting left behind
and I could only type words
with eight letters with two hyphens in between.
Confused? I was as well
as everything I typed became double hyphenated
and made no sense at all.
In desperation and frustration,
I reverted to being a one-finger typist
and now you know the story of my plight.
As for the other fingers,
well they got a new position
of multi-tasking elsewhere.
poem by David Harris
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Business
Two villains of the highest rank
Set out one night to rob a bank.
They found the building, looked it o'er,
Each window noted, tried each door,
Scanned carefully the lidded hole
For minstrels to cascade the coal
In short, examined five-and-twenty
Good paths from poverty to plenty.
But all were sealed, they saw full soon,
Against the minions of the moon.
'Enough,' said one: 'I'm satisfied.'
The other, smiling fair and wide,
Said: 'I'm as highly pleased as you:
No burglar ever can get through.
Fate surely prospers our design
The booty all is yours and mine.'
So, full of hope, the following day
To the exchange they took their way
And bought, with manner free and frank,
Some stock of that devoted bank;
And they became, inside the year,
One President and one Cashier.
Their crime I can no further trace
The means of safety to embrace,
I overdrew and left the place.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXVI: One in a Million
A million feeling, one story
One feeling, a million story
A million question, one anxiety
One question, a million anxieties
A million smile, one meaning
One smile, a million meaning
A million languages, one will
One language, a million will
A million anger, one reaction
One anger, a million reaction
A million beginning, one ending
One beginning, a million ending
A million face, one heart
One face, a million hearts
A million dream, one happiness
One dream, a million happiness
A million love, one human
One love, a million human
A million trouble, one way
One trouble, a million ways
A million arts, one impression
One art, a million impressions
A million witness, one event
One witness, a million event
A million memories, one fact
One memory, a million facts
A million chance, one choice
One chance, a million choices
A million lives, one hope
One life, a million hope
A million reason, one lie
One reason, a million lie
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Sacrifice Yourself
Some days he feels so empty
Just a talking head
Married to a klingon
Who could cream him in the press
God could detonate him
Gods the one we pick to curse us
And 25 years pass him
Like an evening at the circus
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Surprise yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
There it is, the look, the winner you
Once talked of being
Give her one last kiss and
Dive right out the window screaming
No truth decent, it was summer from the waist down
She blew the troops right off your feet
She tells you shes gods grammy
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Surprise yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Her, the only game in town, a queen of competence
Blind in front of mirrors, proving nothings says a lot
Wham bam thank you charlie
Vanity is all
You wander lonely to the scene
A crawling up the walls
Dont sacrifice yourself
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wish My Own Uterus Was Left Alone
Didn't I tell you not to use,
That kind of language 'inside' this house?
'Yeah, but mommy...
Daddy uses it inside, outside,
And 'everywhere'.'
And tell me this,
Why is it you rush to the mailbox...
When the mailman comes everyday.
What's going on?
'I'm waiting for a letter from the President.
I wrote to ask him a question.
I want to know why he hasn't replaced my piggy bank.
With the money I had in it.'
Didn't I tell you your father did that?
'Yeah but daddy said if it wasn't for the President,
The gas prices wouldn't be high.
And he would be able to buy his own cigarettes.'
The President had nothing to do with your father's actions.
'Tell that to daddy.
He said he can't wait to vote him out of office.'
And what do you think the President will say about that?
'I don't care.
I just want my money and my piggy bank back.'
I wish my own uterus was left alone.
Without debating over who stays and who goes.
Pretty soon we'll need permission to use the bathroom.
'Huh? '
Don't worry about it.
Trust me.
What you have and how it's used...
Will 'never' be up for debate.
'Mommy?
Nevermind.
I don't even know what to ask.
I'll just wait to get my letter from the President.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Worry About Money
Wearing worry about money like a hair shirt
I lie down in my bed and wrestle with my angel.
My bank-manager could not sanction my continuance for another day
But life itself wakes me each morning, and love
Urges me to give although I have no money
In the bank at this moment, and ought properly
To cease to exist in a world where poverty
Is a shameful and ridiculous offence.
Having no one to advise me, I open the Bible
And shut my eyes and put my finger on a text
And read that the widow with the young son
Must give first to the prophetic genius
From the little there is in the bin of flour and the cruse of oil.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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I'm one in a million
I’m one in a million
Of people who claims to be
But no one knows me
One in a million
Of people who are writing
But no one is willing to read
I’m one in a million
Of people who has serious
Entertaining issues
But no one is interested in them
One in a million
Of people who sings
But no one recognize me
I’m one in a million
Of people who voice out clearly
But no one is listening to me
One in a million
Of people who are renaissance
But no one sees it
I’m one in a million
Of people who are searched and looked for
But no one finds me
Because I’M ONE IN A MILLION
poem by Zama Ashley Helebe
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I Got Caught
I ‘'borrowed'' some money from my bank,
Around a million bucks,
Now I'm languishing in the pen,
The financial system sucks.
I only did what others do,
That was to speculate,
I would have paid it back to them,
But the judge said that didn't equate.
I told her I was innocent,
It was just a bit of fun,
She asked me if that was the case,
Why did I need a gun.
I said I'd never have used it,
It was purely used for fright,
For when they seen my weapon,
They'd maybe see the light.
While I only stole a million,
The bosses steal more than me,
Yet none of them are by my side,
They're all out there bloody free.
If only they had not refused,
When I asked them for a loan,
They told me I had no chance,
It's like getting blood from a stone.
Just like them I helped myself,
Yet mine is classed as crime,
While the bankers rob us blind,
I'm in here doing time.
So the moral of this story is,
If you're going to rob a bank,
Make sure you get the managers job,
Then the police you can outflank.
While they're allowed to help themselves,
With no need to feel distraught,
The banker and me are so alike,
The difference is,
‘'I Got Caught''
The Fools in Washington D.C.
It's has been brought to my attention,
That all politicians are fools.
And worst than that,
They all are crooks.
It does not take a rocket scientist to figure this out.
Special interests, lobbyists, money talks.
Chicago style politics anyone, The ex Senator,
From Illinois is now president.
How many sexual predators are in the House,
And Senate?
These men live like Gods.
They have so many benefits, like gym memberships,
Retirement pensions, health care, dental,
And so many more things,
That you and me, will never see,
Yet they are our employees,
Subject to our wills,
And they get pay raises every year,
While you and I suck our thumbs.
These men live like Gods,
And they only have disdain for us.
Disdain for you,
Disdain for me.
They believe they are answerable to no one.
The president thinks he is God,
The senators think they are Gods.
And the Congressmen know they are Gods.
All they can do is pass the buck,
They are not omnipotent.
But we are under their thumbs.
When they return to your town,
Asking for your vote, tell them NO.
Tell them all NO.
Maybe then, we can start again,
When somebody that is on foodstamps,
As president.
And a few illegal aliens as congressmen and senators,
I'll bet you they would do a better job,
And would be grateful to serve.
They would consider it a privilege,
Not an entitlement.
(8/3/11-Alton Texas)
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Father Africa
Father Africa! At a token ignorance,
You have given your inheritance:
To strangers you gave amuch
White loonies who do not eat in our dish.
Behold, with some sham laughter;
They transacted for few daughter;
They bring clothes and rum and guns
To shackle away your sons.
Father Africa, foolish you!
Lo! See Mama Africa cry
Her hapless tears undry
On her black beautiful, dark dimples
Oh Africa, chaos ripples.
See your sons brutally unfair
Taking hostage His own kin at warfare,
Selling them at ludicrous token
Oh Africa, your woes betoken!
The sun rose in great grief
And shambled to rest in dumb disbelief,
The rivers pensive in their bank.
Our follies deserve on thank;
Africa sells her prime at twenty pounds,
Her offspring shackled to foreigngrounds
On a fettered peregrination to the coasts,
They await shipment for wicked hosts.
Father Africa, foolish you!
Has that token twenty pounds
Suffice the pandemic poverty that pounds
You and Your offspring on the head?
Those you sold - million tears shed
You caused them sorrowful spiritual to sing
They endlessly labour where trepidations ring,
They suffer severe discomfort - unfair!
They dwell in dejected despise and despair.
poem by Joseph Oladehinde Ibikunle
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National Song (E.C.)
There is no land like England
Where banks rise day by day,
There are no banks like English banks
To make the people pay.
There is no such land of castles
Where an Englishman is free
To read his smutty literature
With muffins at his tea.
Chorus:
For the French have comic papers
Not that nice Britons read 'em,
But the bawdy little Britons
Have bank sharks to bleed 'em
And to keep an eye on their readin' matter
Lest they should overhear the distressing chatter
Of the new economical theories
And ask inconvenient queetfes.
poem by Ezra Pound
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