With Apologies to:  Sir Walter Scott

Breathes there the banker, with soul so dead,

Who ne’er to himself hath said,

What have I done to my native land?

Whose heart hath ne’er within him turn’d,

At the sight of businesses he hath burn’d,

By ruthless profiting on a foreign strand!  (Goldman Sachs)

If such there breathe, go, mark him well;

For him no Minstrel raptures swell;

High though his title, proud his name,

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;

Despite those titles, power, and pelf,

The wretch, concentred all in self,  (Trump)

Living, doth forfeit fair renown,

And, doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,

Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung.  (Madoff)

You are welcome

For more, go to: http://www.jameshpyle.com