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First impressions, so it's said,
Are created in the head...

Heedless of the danger,
I charge straight ahead,
Surely it's not stranger
To be known now, humourously,
Than posthumously, and
Dead.


To clear the air, I'd like to say,
I'd rather play with words and rhyme,
To make my points, crass or sublime.
To play with verse, and have some fun
With wit and wisdom, and with pun.



It is when a politician,
Common, perhaps, or patrician,
Promises to make things better
Even writes it in a letter...

To the House, he gets elected,
Then, finds some vows he cannot keep,
Certain promises, selected,
Will end up on... the rubbish heap!

All parties are in agreement,
When it comes to death and taxes,
The taxman is ever vigilant,
And the Reaper never relaxes.

You should expect your dollars, from your pockets, will be picked
By the taxman, who will win, for the taxpayer is licked.
Any party, win or lose, whoever's chosen, or kicked,
They'll keep taxing, don't be fooled, or by your own self, be tricked.

Whatever the party, whatever the faction,
We all want a bit of a piece of the action...
I'll be not dismayed, nor disturbed by distraction,
I promise to get my own little fraction!

Just vote for my party, just vote for my plan,
I promise you taxes, served up with elan.
I'll spend all your money, I'll spend all your gold
And ask you for more, I'm just ever so bold...

Don't say I deceived you, I'm honest and true,
I'll take every penny, and spend it on YOU.
For you deserve hospitals, airports and homes,
Food on the table, in gardems, some gnomes...

All lifes little pleasures, they come at some cost,
So focused I'll be, and I will not get lost.
No red tape shall bind me, nor stone be unturned,
'til the money's all spent and all lessons are learned.


Monk Penman