Open docs, jot down who pulled up their socks
Who marched jocks down thumb-sucking?
Who is dumb and did nothing?
Whose trencher contents stretch credulity and chagrin ledgers?
Who but an Olympian can name the next generation’s legends.
Down to brass tacks, who got down to it
Never show me the number before tax
Unless you want another revolutionary France
If I was clever and full of fiscal rancor I’d go full Manx, tax exempt banks Isle of Man
I live there half the year I love it I swear
It’s the bracing sea air, not the care taken of criminals, the liminal laws peculiar regarding matters pecuniary
Flight to the Isle of White, alighting with suitcases fulla white
Valuable bags of brown lying across
Like a priest of the cross took a shite on his chasuble
Receiving yield-increasing amounts
Coins into my vaults clanking like clashing steels
Cash deals, three-tiered apartments thieving bandits will target to fleece
Argo to Fleece I go where the breeze
Carries me, I go where lax tax law larries me
Fetch my bank book, I am a crook and it is the night before Larry got stretched.
Like a marriage scene I grin so much when I grab the cheese
No wanking, cumming during wet dreams
Advancing my plans, analyse my phalanx
So prone they’re practically planking before me
All early birds worm thirsty and busy bees, all think they’re the knees
They grease me through the year
With pleasing gestures, pleading suggestions
Complimenting my shit hair
Wheeling in chairs the uncrippled, like I’m an invalid
Licking their lips at glimpses of team lead vacancies
Pretty vacant feckless lot living in fantasies.
Matrix of team rankings
They play tricks to court my affection
Affected niceties, “nice tie” close to payout
I can see their coyote mouths rabid for a slab of the pie
Laughing at all my jokes, your hand petting my knee
Methinks the lady doth chortle too much
Want A plus on this spreadsheet
Show anus widdem spreadcheeks
I’ve been boss since age one
Broker no loss in H1
You should be satisfied with a C grade ranking.
Alchemisland 
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