Election time is here again. I’ve promises galore.
Alas, they may be sacrificed when I speak from the floor.
Trust me, I’m a politician.
Pay tribute to the fallen on this extra special day.
I’ll lay poppies from the front. From the rear I’ll lead the fray.
Trust me, I’m a general.
Let me secure your future, ring fence your retirement plan,
I’ll speculate in hedge funds, futures, bitcoins. I’m your man.
Trust me, I’m a financial adviser.
Aum. We all seek guidance in our journey on this earth.
I’ll help you find your true self for I know how much you’re worth.
Trust me, I’m a guru.
For a trifling, small percentage, say 1.5 to 2,
I’ll watch your des. res. sell itself and charge the bill to you.
Trust me, I’m an estate agent.
Just take a seat upon the couch. To help me in my quests
to cast the role of Joan of Arc I’ll have to see your breasts.
Trust me, I’m a casting director.
Hello! Hello! What have we here? Sports car? Midlife crisis?
I’m sometimes amnesiac depending what the price is.
Mind as you go, sir. I’m a speedcop.
Incurable? There’s no such thing. Look at my plaque embossed.
Believe in me for I can cure …… It may entail a cost.
Trust me, I’m a faith healer.
Amazing what a lab coat means. I’m erudite and smart.
From brushing teeth to climate change, I have a little chart.
Trust me, I’m a scientist.
And last, not least and up to now forgotten in this rhyme,
I’m the investment banker who thought up a ploy sub-prime
that no-one understands but that guaranteed my bonus.
What financial crisis? We all share the common onus.
I’m a little more reluctant dividing up my spoils.
Give or take the odd mill., I only cost the same as Royals.
Trust me? You’d have to be mad.
Good night. Farewell. Remember. Just maintain the status quo.
It’s yours to put your faith in, but what’s what is ours to know.
Trust us, we’re the Establishment.
© Phil Poyser, Macclesfield, 11th. November, 2014