I stopped off at my bank today;
some little fees I had to pay.
For running up a paltry bill
that was not covered by their till.
The teller gave me such a look;
she put me on a tenterhook.
The manager came out to scowl
at me like I was something foul.
A guy in a black ski mask swung
an ax that made me lose my tongue.
They surely would not punish me
for such a teeny tiny fee?
Up in heaven, where I went,
I saw it was no accident.
Accountants by St Peter's side
my overdraft would not let slide.
And so they sent be Down Below,
where flames leap with a fiendish glow.
In a thousand years, I guess,
my balance they will reassess.
And if I am not overdrawn
asbestos long johns I can don.
While with a quill I add up sums
as dragons nibble on my thumbs.
Beware, ye mortals, of what banks
will give you (and it's not their thanks!)
when you exceed their balance sheet.
It will not be the Mercy Seat!
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