​THE YACHTSMAN
​
This poem was inspired by a recent case of
corporate chicanery.   It is entirely fictional.

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A high street store has gone for a burton;
It was the place to go for a shower curtain,
Or shoes  or perfume or a Shetland shawl, 
Or a Hockney print for the bedroom wall.

There were thousands of people working there;
Profit made was theirs to share,
Once the owner had taken his rightful cut,
And each was promised a pension pot.

But the owner wanted more than than he'd already got;
He needed to buy another yacht.
He owned one longer than a soccer pitch, 
But a bigger one would soothe that chronic itch.

His wife lived abroad as a tax exile,
Enjoying an opulent expat style,
And he took a huge dividend and sent her the lot,
Thinking, "Sod the pensioners, I NEED that yacht!".

And as Jolly Jack Tar cruises the Med.
With a knotted handkerchief on his head,
He lets his lady friends take the wheel,
And shows off his rhino to make them squeal.

And what will happen now is anyone's guess;
Will he pay it all back, or plead to pay less?
If the pensioners are screwed after all their labour,  
He should stick his knighthood up his khyber!