I see the big business people on the run ,to bank vaults where people like me seldom come .

The top of the town are taken care of there, and from my point of view,its not very fair.

Working for peanuts like a monkey would do .

They look down on me but they don’t have a clue .

Like a beggar at the door with a tin cup .

They hear me knocking but they won’t open up .

They don’t think of me when my backs to the wall , I ask for some help and they ask me to crawl .

They say you’ve got no business coming round here , leave , you’re not welcome , do we make ourselves clear .

So I make my way unseen through life until , the big business people are handed the bill .

Then no credit will there be for those who hide ,their money in boxes on a vault inside ,

those banks with lost keys buried under the ground .

So they’ll shout and scream but I won’t hear a sound ,

because I’ve no business around there no more ,

and they’ll be the poor beggars outside my door .

I’ll mind my own business but don't let them forget,

the day big business couldn’t repay all their debt .

By Paul McCann