[John Whitworth]

This looks like a goodie. We ought to produce some winners!

No. 2586: Humble pie
There is a mood of contrition — or is there? Not everyone was persuaded by the bankers’ recent words of remorse. You are invited to submit a more convincing apology on their behalf, in verse, for the current financial meltdown (16 lines maximum). Entries to ‘Competition 2586’ by 26 February or email lucy@spectator.co.uk.

[Roger Slater]

IF IT'S ANY CONSOLATION

We made the call
and risked it all
and profited, no doubt,

but when we failed
we still prevailed
because they bailed us out.

Before you blare
life's so unfair,
before you sulk and pout,

remember that
we're bald and fat
and suffering from gout.

[Jim Hayes]

Humble Pie

The Bankers Atonement Song

We are sorry, yes we’re sorry, we’re as sorry as can be,
we are sorrier than a jailer who set Jack the Ripper free,
we are sorrier than the man who shot an albatross at sea.
And the Pobble with no toes, and Cyrano with no nose, we are sorrier than those.

We are sorrier than a highwayman left hanging from a rope,
we are sorrier than Romeo, caught trying to elope,
we are sorrier than Paisley forced to kneel before the Pope.
And Jack Sprat who had no fat, and a grim faced Cheshire cat, we are sorrier than that.

We are sorrier than Rapunzel, when she’d no hair left to comb,
we are sorrier than Caesar on the Ides of March in Rome,
we are sorrier than the piggies, when the wolf blew down their home.
And the beau who had no miss, and the frog without a kiss, we are sorrier than this.

We are are sorry that our bonuses are now gone for a song.
We are sorry, like Pinocchio, that our noses are so long.
We are truly, really sorry we must own up we were wrong.
Ugly Sisters at the ball, Humpty Dumpties going to fall, we’re the sorriest of all.


Jim Hayes

[John Whitworth]

Hell Jim, that's like mine but better. Perhaps we'll both win.


Humble Pie

We’re so sorry, oh so sorry, we’re so very, very sorry.
No-one else could feel the pain we do.
There’s no language we can borrow for the sharpness of our sorrow
For the sorry things we did to you.

Oh we wish we hadn’t done it. No we never should have done it,
But we did it and we can’t say more.
We deplore it and we rue it and we wish we could undo it
Which we think is what we said before.

You’re so kind and you’re so clever, if you ever, ever, ever
Could endeavour to forgive us, then
What a wonder would our life be, how harmonious and strife-free,
For we’ll never be as bad again!

How we wilt at your displeasure, our remorse is beyond measure,
We’ll be sorry till our dying day.
Don’t reject us or disown us, don’t deprive us of our bonus
And we’ll promise anything you say.

[FOsen]

Whose on Foist?

Heyyy, Abbottttt, did you hear that I got
Laid off?
And none of the investments I bought
Paid off?
That’s right! Now someone’s swindled me, who
Made off?
His name—that’s all I want from you
That’s Madoff
Yeah, took off, took my dough
Yes, Madoff
That’s what I want to know
It’s Madoff made off
Okay! so, made off!!
Yes, that’s right.
What? What’s right, you BS wanker?
No, Lou, UBS was once your banker.

Frank

[Martin Elster]

PIRATES FROM OUTER SPACE

We’re not quite who you think we are.
We’re shapeshifters from outer space
That turned up at your bankers’ place
And sent them to another star.

We took their shape and shipped your dough
Through space-time to our distant planet.
We are, in fact, the one’s who ran it
Nine thousand million years ago.

Although you search and scrutinize,
You’ll never see us through our guise.
We ate your savings. We are shameless.
Your bankers, though, are wholly blameless.

We solemnly apologize
As we beam what’s left into the skies.

[R. S. Gwynn]

Nostrae culpae is our motto: Should have put your cash on Lotto,
Should have sunk it in the garden or secured debenture bonds;
Should have put it in a snuff-tin--it would still be good enough when
All the wizards of the bail-out come to wave their magic wands.

Should have hid it in the cellar, should have had it laundered well or
Shipped it off into the Caymans or a stash that lies offshore;
Should have bought a case of Spam, a new Mercedes for your gramma,
Should have purchased those commodities with which you're never poor.

Should have stuffed it in a cranny or a fixed retirement plan (he
Never suffers whose portfolios are locked to interest rates);
Should have bet on faster horses or gold found in far-off sources;
Should have saved all those food coupons, or just shared it with your mates.

So we say now nostrae culpae is our way of saying Gulp! Hey,
We're all totally behind you as we wend our merry round.
We're your buddies, fellow boozers (which is not to say just losers),
As we hold hands and we jump in waters where we may be drowned.

[John Whitworth]

Get that one in TODAY, Sam!

[Chris Childers]

Sam, I'd go with just nostra culpa. The original (mea culpa) is in the ablative.

If you want the plural, it's nostris culpis, but that doesn't sound nearly as good.

[Martin Elster]

That's great, Sam, but line 9 has one too many feet.