To the poor

The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear
Pale people sit in  the once  empty chairs
Will we lose our money, our treasure?

Will Donald Trump press buttons nuclear?
Our ghostly anguish suddenly lies bare
The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear

At every level, we are  what we hear
And what we hear is not  quite  what is there
Will we lose our money, our treasure?

Possessed by image of  the great Shakespeare
Macbeth and Hamlet, recall old King Lear
The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear

We ponder  what is worst and what is dear
We wonder whether  Satan’s left his lair
Will we lose our money, our treasure?

But we are wealthy, we have all that’s fair
Compare us not to Murdoch and his Sky
The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear
Why not give some  money on  the poor?