Christmas is coming, the golden geese are splat
Please to spare a thought for the last fat cats;
If you haven’t got the message, the medium is you,
If you haven’t got the medium then God bless you!
Christmas is coming, the golden geese are tat
Another year the government took care of that;
If you haven’t got a nest egg, your servitude will do,
If you haven’t got a pot to piss in, God help you!
Christmas is coming, the golden geese are crap
Please to spend a penny in The Man’s old hat;
If you haven’t got a sprinkling, a tinkle in will do,
If you haven’t got an inkling, well: then God bless poo!
Grew and came to rest
For an age
Did people drift,
Trade their lives
That Golem blessed the Carrion
With precious jewels
To fill their vaulted, gifted nest.
Filled to overbrimming
Mind to motion,
Wakes to shade
And, quickening, now,
Weight from wait –
The Golden Bough
Of Hubris, heaving, breaks.
Right wing clinging
But the Left wing is singing,
Rising up from the edges,
Marching in on the terraces;
A coiled spring’s innings
Twinning up on the bluff:
Oh, come and have a go
if you think you’re hard enough!