Good Evening I’m your Chancellor Let me take your wallet Don’t mind if I rifle through You see it’s what I have to do I lean upon the ordinary folk Pinch them, squeeze them till they’re broke A quick nip here, a quick tuck there Comb out your takings like fine, rich hair Though only coppers to me - that I know – Still Clink … Into the Treasury box they go! Your life seems so far away From those of us who calmly sway Into havens of retreat where we can Tweak our Taxes Ah! Tweaking! What a joy! What a boon! These wondrous places Vast, hidden oases For thirsty slaves of gold A loop, a twist, a little hole A brick removed from solid wall In which is placed from all reach That which might've shored up a breach Betwixt, between widening gap Of those who have and can and will And all that out there other chaff Those who weary trudge Life’s not fair – this is true So what do I suggest you do? Study economics say? And then get rich the Richie way!
Tweaking Taxes
Shirley Martin takes a dig into the world of tax, seeking rhyme where there is no reason
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