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Mark Steel - The poor ran up our debt. Make them repay it.

(12 Posts)
SanityClause Fri 29-Mar-13 09:05:45

This hits the nail right on the head.

Bearandcub Fri 29-Mar-13 09:09:21

Which paper?

SanityClause Fri 29-Mar-13 09:17:47

The Independent.

I read it in the paper, so I was pleased its online for me to link and share.

TheUnstoppableWindmill Fri 29-Mar-13 09:21:50

Thanks for the link- that's a brilliant article.

SanityClause Fri 29-Mar-13 09:26:33

I particularly like the bit about the politician "recognising" the true victim of a bank robbery.

Bearandcub Fri 29-Mar-13 09:26:41

Very good.

Darkesteyes Fri 29-Mar-13 23:49:42

Brilliant article.

seventiesgirl Sat 30-Mar-13 00:08:44

That's really just f****d with my head, marvellous!

ttosca Sat 30-Mar-13 14:16:18

This one's a good one.

Solopower1 Tue 02-Apr-13 22:31:40

Time for a song, I think.

Billy Bennett

She was poor but she was honest,
though she came from 'umble stock,
And her honest heart was beating
Underneath her tattered frock.

But the rich man saw her beauty,
She knew not his base design,
And he took her to a hotel
And bought her a small port wine.

Chorus: It's the same the whole world over,
It's the poor what gets the blame,
It's the rich what gets the pleasure,
Isn't it a blooming shame?

In the rich man's arms she fluttered
Like a bird with a broken wing,
But he loved her and he left her,
Now she hasn't got no ring.

Time has flown - outcast and homeless
In the street she stands and says,
While the snowflakes fall around her,
'Won't you buy my bootlaces.'


Standing on the bridge at midnight
She says, 'Farewell, blighted love!'
There's a scream, a splash, good 'eavens!
What is she a doing of?

Soon they dragged her from the river,
Water from her clothes they wrang.
They all thought that she was drownded,
But the corpse got up and sang:


She was poor but she was honest,
Victim of a rich man's game.
First he loved her, then he left her,
And she lost her maiden name.

Then she ran away to London
For to hide her grief and shame.
There she met an Army captain,
And she lost her name again.


See him riding in a carriage
Past the gutter where she stands.
He has made a stylish marriage,
While she wrings her ringless hands.

See him there at the theatre,
In the front row with the best,
While the girl that he has ruined
Entertains a sordid guest.


See her on the bridge at midnight,
Crying "Farewell, blighted love".
Then a scream, a splash and Goodness!
What is she a-doing of?

When they dragged her from the river
Water from her clothes they wrung.
Though they thought that she was drownded,
Still her corpse got up and sung:


How true, how true.

(Though probably not particularly relevant).

dotnet Fri 05-Apr-13 18:33:34

I only knew the chorus, solopower1. Nice to see the rest of the words! You're clearly a woman of culture, like me.

Now for a brief snatch of song about a turncoat (think LibDem party maybe, and student fees...) to be sung to the tune of The Red Flag.

'The Commisar of Potter's Bar
Has bought a brand new motor-car.
The working class can kiss my arse,
I've got the foreman's job at last!'

Any more for any more? You know you want to.

Solopower1 Sat 06-Apr-13 15:19:26

I do, I do! (But none spring to mind ...)

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