“Money Matters” Leon Rosselson, Harry’s Gone Fishing, Fuse Records (CFCD 007), 1999

Little Alexander Cecil, Lord Landander’s son and heir, Was only seven years of age When he became a millionaire. Put his tooth under his pillow Wasn’t he a lucky fellow?

Money rises from the sewers; Causes all the ills it cures. Poisons rivers, topples trees, Money is its own disease. Blessed slime and holy gutter, Turning toil to bread and butter, Shirts and shoes to rags and tatters. Money matters!

Paolo worked his plot of land To keep his wife and children fed. Until the men with guns came knocking, Paolo took the hint and fled. Now his kids are undernourished And money grows where food once flourished.

Like flies on feces, money breeds Propagating sterile seeds. Money burns and rapes and loots Tearing lives up by the roots. Sucks the sap from our desires, Honors hucksters, creeps and liars, Turns fools to wise, and wise to fools, Money rules!

Artist, anarchist and joker, Piermans only thought it smart To lay his wealth of turds in cans To show his scorn for bourgeois art. Now his turds are in demand And each can sells for twenty grand.

Nothing can escape its clutches Putrifying all it touches Clogging fur and tarring feather Unpredictable as weather. Hard hearts of a world that’s hollow, Money calls and many follow, Happiness the promised prize. Money lies!

Those who bought him for adoption Hatched a scheme they thought was clever: Kill the boy and cut him open. Sold his kidneys, heart and liver Healthy organs fetch a packet When it is a seller’s market.

Shacks of cardboard, shacks of tin, Rubbish dumps to scavage in, Eyes accusing, bellies empty Strangers to the world of plenty. Money will not be controlled What can be so, will be sold Let the future pay the bills. Money kills!

Could we make a world without it? Don’t know how we’d go about it, But tell me now if money were… Wasting the earth.

And on, and on, and on….