Persimmon, Jeff Fairburn and the unholy stink of capital

Jeff Fairburn, remember the name 
His life will never be the same again 
Caught in the spotlight of the camera's eye 
With a seventy five million pound bonus he couldn't deny

Couldn't deny, could barely speak 
As he slithered out of shot so mild and meek 
Leaving unspoken words polluting the air 
With a gargantuan stink from capital's lair 

The lifetime earnings of seventy men 
Signed off with a casual swipe of the pen 
And another eight hundred million spread around his chums 
What houses that might build, just do the sums 

Jeff, I'm sure in your world you're held in much high esteem 
For the way in which you used "The Help to Buy" scheme 
To jack up house prices subsidised by the tax of the many 
And syphon off the profits to make the few a pretty penny 

But in my world you're a thief, simple and plain 
Abusing a rigged system for personal gain 
And from this day on until you meet your god 
You'll just be Jeff Fairburn - that greedy sod! 



Copyright: Fishylyrics 2018


 

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