Bankers

A poem about Bankers. Or vaginas

Bankers are funny aren't they, no two are quite alike.
I've seen clean shaven bankers all business suits and ties
I've seen some glammed up with jewellery looking pretty fucking fly
I've seen old ones and young ones, fat ones and thin
I saw a banker with a beard so big I swear he didn't have a chin

And choosing the right bank's difficult. I could be loyal to my bank
Make a deposit and watch my interest rates grow, a reward for the good investment of my time
But how do you know if you're getting the best deal if you don't shop around
Moving from one introductory deal to the next before you get stuck with a fine
But I'll tell you this no matter what there's always a line

People judge you by your bank. I can get away with Wonga.com down here
But I wouldn't dream of going home with anything less than NatWest
Barclays maybe, Lloyds TSB at a push
All the while keeping my cash for gold hush hush

Aye that's another thing about banks
It’s all about being on the down low with the lip service
Not complaining like it gets you places and the service you get in return is superb
But, some banks are so corrupt its detestable
And I have to sit with a straight face going Mmm delectable

If you do complain though they threaten to cut you off
And with the size of the queue behind its clear they don't need you
Times are hard at the minute, a lot of bankers aren't doing business
With no loans how do you start your company and without one it’s gonna be a bloody cold Christmas

There are ways around this
Though the nuts will say you're not right in the head
If you don't want to get into bed with the bankers
Become a communist instead