A Pretty Penny

There's some men in this city who are paid a pretty penny
Just for guessing where the money flows.
Certain handshakes, knowing smiles, in this city mile.
That's the way you know the bonus grows.

We should be so lucky, they're such plucky fellows,
Only right they pluck the sweetest plums.
If we don't knock such wisdom,
Rock the boat or rock the system,
If we're good, we'll get to pick the crumbs.

And behind their hedge
They don't plant wheat,
They don't cut corn,
They don't pick tea,
They don't dig coal,
They don't forge steel,
They just push numbers all about,
They push too far we bail them out,
Keep their fingers firm on fortune's wheel.

Such fine aspirations, their justifications,
Where's the justice I would like to see
It seems the simple fact is, keeping rules and paying tax is
Just for simple fools like you and me.

The sky's the going rate, they want it on a plate,
They'll relocate, should we dare to decline.
It's global market, they can take their jet and park it,
Some where where the sun refuse to shine.

Have a great Christmas!