Address to the Unco Greedy, or the Fiscally Frivolous

O ye wha for exotics fell,
Sae joyous and sae jolly,
Ye'd nought tae dae but buy an' sell,
An' tak yer neibor's lolly!
Wi' hands stuck firmly in the till,
Mere ethics didnae matter;
Now poor Joe Public foots the bill,
For City boys grown fatter!

Hear me, as Sterling hits the floor,
An' outflows gush aortal,
Ye'll rue the day ye voted for,
New Labour, wha now chortles?
Aye, since these thoughtless, careless fakes,
Are sic a bunch o' chancers,
Gie me political earthquakes,
Tae excise Labour cancers.

They've run the state intae despair,
Then City rules made stiffer;
Whiles bringin in the HBOS laird,
Wha sacked the trouble-sniffer;
For though Moore tried HBOS tae save,
By his concerns confidin',
The risk was his tae be sae brave,
An' for it Crosby fired him!

Think Labour, how you us repulse,
Wi' each new steamin' dollop,
O' lies an' spin, yer base impulse,
Twelve years o' pure codswallop!
Ye've spinned and lied while oot ye bailed,
Each bank. Is this the Third Way?
It's on Broon's watch that we've been failed,
Despite the "global" respray!

See Socialist-lite, poor glaikit Brown,
A' half-truths and hoodwinking:
While Goodwin's crucified alone,
This tawdry culprit's shrinking.
O how we pray he'll see too late,
Th' electoral consequences,
An' his mair dreaded, hellish fate,
Deflation o' expenses!

Broon's highly-salted, tortuous claims,
Fly up in a' oor faces.
Before he seeks tae shift mair blame,
Suppose he truth embraces!
Oor dear comrade, convenient shrugged,
When easing regulation,
An' bonus-junkies kept their drug,
Wi' his administration!

Now keenly scan Broon's masterplan,
Tae get thae green shoots bloomin':
Frae us he'll hang (for ages lang!)
Mair debt! How mad he's spumin'!
One point must still be made quite stark,
How Broon sae badly blew it:
"We'll save tomorrow!" his hallmark.
Oor monstrous debt? He grew it!

Who ruled the mart, 'tis he alone,
Decidedly did fry us;
He solves each problem with a loan,
Then prudently acts pious!
As oor imbalance grows acute,
Broon's flush is truly busted!
Oor emperor's in his birthday suit,
Growin' ever mair ham-fisted!