Dear Chancellor of the Exchequer,
Where’s our cheque?
Please,
It’s long overdue
By 400 years or so,
Interest so high our noses
Bleed,
Onto streets we paved with gold,
Though the pound somehow
Eludes us,
And we only count
Pennies.

Like landowners,
The pounds look after themselves,
Wrapped up tight
In stately homes,
Manor houses
(Now rented…