Greed

The journey to the hank that he made mice a week
To cash in on percentage of the cut
Life so good, drive so easy
The only one he made with peepers shut

But eyes getting wider in the vaults of the bank
Calculating draft after draft
Adding up just what makes the owner of the yacht
Much better than the owner of the raft

So give him hands clapping hands and smiling Irish eyes
But please don't ever tax his next of kin
Strangled by the gap between the tree tops and the skies
Hollands banking Ireland's sweetest thing

Pennies piled high, pounds cashed in
Caught between Alsatian and the gates
Poor can't risk not having any friends
Avaritia can't afford to have a mate

The crooks and the criminals, gangsters and animals
Fleeing stripped down to their waist
Drenched in sweat and blood of their imaginary crimes
They were running from a fear called the eighth

So give him hands clapping hands and smiling Irish eyes
But please don't ever tax his next of kin
Strangled by the gap between the tree tops and the skies
Holland's banking Ireland's sweetest thing