Here they come!
With itchy pens
And tablets of trouble.
They are social critics
Human rights activists
Purveyors of the good
The bad, the tasty and the ugly.
We love them when they smell good
And show us mirrors of hope
Treat our leaders with courtesy
But when they court trouble
And fart on our fatty faces
Go to hell, we tell them!
Call them intrepid, shameless maggots!
Receivers of ‘brown envelopes’
Of dollars, Euros, Yen and Pounds;
Scavengers, knaves, knotty cranks
Filthy men of the False Estate of the Realm!
And when they cross the carpet
To defend, in frustration, the powers-that-be
Churning out tomes of polished notes
And picking crumbs from the big men’s tables
They become official megaphones
Of falsehood, eating up their own
Like birds of carrion, filthy and bloody!
But their metamorphosis is soon complete
To the top of the ladder they climb
Commissioner X, Governor Y, Minister Z!
Mansions in cities fenced away
From the masses they once served.
Luxurious cars beyond counting
Artificial rewards of years of criticism;
Of long hours in detention camps.
Now they have arrived!
The journey from poverty to prosperity
Is at last fully accomplished with some guilt
And since the end justifies the means
We say congrats, critics of fortune!