BEACHCOMBER 104 YEARS OLD AND STILL RAVENOUSLY POETIC…
ONCE upon a midnight bleary, while I pondered, weak and beery, / Over quite a dull and boring text of some proposed new law / While I nodded, nearly dreaming, suddenly a face came beaming, / And a flow of words was streaming, through my House of Commons door.
Then a man with bulging wallet barged an entrance through the door. / Only that and nothing more.
Indistinctly I remember, long ago, perhaps September; / I, a parliamentary member, wondered what he’d entered for. / Then he asked – I thought it funny – if I’d like to earn some money, / Make my life more rich and sunny, open up accounts offshore.
Said my wages, without trouble, he would double, maybe more. / Maybe even lots, lots more.
Then he made a clear suggestion, which at first caused indigestion, / I’d ask question after question, only that, no real chore. / I replied, “That makes me queasy: cash for questions sounds too sleazy.”
No, he said, don’t feel uneasy, what we’ll do won’t break the law. / You’ll be paid as our consultant, sleaze is something we abhor. Just consultant, nothing more.
Then I found myself beholding on my desk a wad of folding / Money, and I soon was holding, more than I’d e’er seen before. This position of consultant clearly soon could be resultant / In a feeling quite exultant, more than ever heretofore.
“That is just a small down-payment,” he then told me, “there’ll be more.” / More and more and more and more. / “Some,” he said, “goes in your pocket. Put the rest in drawers and lock it. / “Watch your income soon skyrocket, funds and bonuses galore.
“Never mind the Board of Standards, always they misunderstand us, / Tell them strongly acting wrongly is a course you most deplore.
“Tell these fools you’ve kept their rules, however much your profits soar.
“All their protests just ignore.”
But the Standards Board reported his account to be distorted, / Unsupported, quite contorted, thwarted all he’d argued for.
Registered their clear dissention, voted for a long suspension,
Docked his pension, raised the tension, said he’d much to answer for.
Showing only indignation, he resigned and slammed the door.
Cash for questions nevermore.