I see the gaunt unsmiling face of my neighbour every night,
Trudging back from his day at work, struggling with all his might.
To make a meek existence, to feed and clothe and house,
His much beloved family, and his ever loving spouse.
But as I gaze at this tired young man, working out his heart,
I wonder what he is slaving for, and will he ever start,
To analyse his life he has, and who he is working for.
And why it is that he will be, forever simply poor.
A glance at his statement, of his mortgage from the bank,
Will show the monthly interest, going to the tank,
Of fat cats in the boardroom, in the city far away,
Nine tenths or more of his hard earned cash, disappears their way.
And even though the taxman, slugs him once a week,
He is glad to see that what is left, will keep him on his feet.
Just topping up a little, with his trusty credit card,
To buy his son a birthday gift, and a lovely little card.
And still he trudges on, with the hope, that one day soon,
He will be approved for another card, as the one he’s got balloons,
Just shy of the limit the bank will bear, and still the bills come in,
He knows but will deny, he is at the moneylender’s whim.
So work each day you tired young man, but one day you may see,
My smiling face next door to you, and maybe just ask me,
Why is it that I’m relaxed, and enjoy my life with thanks,
It’s because I pay no interest to those greedy “bloody” banks.
Written by Derek Haines