Give, Give, Give
Give to the poor, the victims of tsunamis,
of wars and earthquakes, natural disasters.
Reach deep, my friend, the altruist in you
ensures a place, eternal be your life.
Do meet and shake the hands, so manicured
of slick, well dressed and smiling superbosses,
who run their charities so smoothly, and in silence.
And wear designer clothes to make their best impression.
More money is the catch-cry and some more,
we've waited long enough for God's scorn to descend
into this world where punishment is wanting.
It's time to cash and carry for the poor.
Administration is the key word for Accounting.
It costs a lot to cover tracks and live the life,
of what a certain Mr Reilly would have, surely,
regarded as the latest state of art.
Yes, help is needed, billions are now flowing,
we are the suckers paying twice to people who
then turn around to send us terrorists and plagues,
blow our citizens to bits on foreign shores.
We are the lucky ones, we own tremendous riches,
have obligations to extend two golden hands.
But would you tell me who would ever listen
to OUR cries if in the coming future
the tables of catastrophy were turned.
Would inconvenience be the simple explanation,
all money's earmarked for their own urgent concerns.
I hear it now 'We wish that we could help you ',
Perhaps the next time fate does strike we'll ask again.