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The Chemistry of Lucre Is Not Strange
On Radio 4 this morning, plastic fivers...
So, money doesn’t grow on trees no more
For some of us it never really did
The rich grow ever richer, and the poor
Still grovel for a poxy flippin’ quid
The launderers shall rub their hands with glee
‘Tis easy now to wipe clean, and to wash
The dirty money in the treasury
The grime of crime from shiny plastic dosh
Old money will still glint of ancient gold
New money will still boast itself and flash
And diamonds shine, and lead be dark and cold
As ever was, the alchemy of cash
The chemistry of lucre is not strange
The rich stay rich, and for the poor, no change
© Gail Foster 13th September 2016
Copyright ©
Gail Foster
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