I love a good capitalist lunch

Now then wouldn’t it be funny
when you’re running out of money
and you’re eating all the honey  
on a sunny afternoon?

But the honey bees are making
more to eat as they are taking
all the pollen they’ve been raking
from the flowers rund the toon.

Slipping twixt poetic voice
now I am heralding my choice
and with a Jack I shall rejoice
as the sun is gannin doon

But with gladdening expression
I can feel this dark depression
slip away without concession.
Now I look like a balloon.

Coz I’m done with all the honey
and I’m thinking, yes it’s funny
that the sky ‘s still bloody sunny
and I’m fat but still immune

to the names that I’ve been labelled
as I sat at fancy tables 
and I find that I was able 
to adjust to my cocoon