Old mother Hubbard
she went to the cupboard
to give the poor dog a bone.
But when she got there
the cupboard was bare,
a thing that she’d never known.

She went to the Doc,
in deep horror and shock,
the doc, he gave her a pill.
She swallowed it whole
then choked in a bowl,
footing an N.H.S bill.

She did what she ort,
some money she sort’
begging the bank for a loan.
They said “with regret
you’re not a safe bet”.
She didn’t much like their tone.

She asked provident,
at five hundred percent
if they would lend her some cash.
Well they said “of course,
you’re loan we’ll endorse”…
Boosting her monetary stash.

Old mother Hubbard
she stocked up her cupboard
much to the dog’s great relief.
Soon it discovered
she’d filled her cupboard
with burgers made of horse beef.

She was feeling well,
‘til her countenance fell
now she was feeling forlorn.
Her statement now said
She’d gone in the red,
due to a pound overdrawn.

She made a swift call,
to a manager tall,
telling him she was depressed.
He said her account
was docked that amount
following compound interest.

When all else failed,
she asked to be bailed,
sadly “he had to refrain”.
He heard her beseech
when laid on a beach,
drinking a glass of champagne.

Her credit had crashed
so he said unabashed,
with a voice smarmy and swank.
“The sum that you owe
will flourish and grow
unless you pay off the bank”! ( [email protected]. )

Feeling quite queer
she trembled with fear,
stressed by the worry induced.
She owned not a thing,
not even a ring
and lived on Tesco reduced.

She sat in the cold;
arthritic and old
eating her “out of date” snacks.
To make matters worse
a councilor, terse,
told of a new bedroom tax.

Her state was contrived
when a letter arrived,
speaking of benefit cuts.
What irked her the most,
was settlements grossed
my men who sit on their butts.

Poor mother Hubbard,
her health waned and suffered,
and her dog was underfed.
They died in the gloom
and so I assume,
huddled together in bed.