‘The quality of mercy is not strained’
It droppeth in a form eight pages long
To mitigate for third child born from rape
And only when thou proveth thus was so
For mercy hath a limit, don’tcha know
The quantity of mercy hath been changed
All kids thine own may only count as two
For first two count, they are still blessed
An heir and spare, so preordained
And anyone with more hath half a brain
The quantity of mercy’s prearranged
In payment thirteen pounds and forty pence
For that should keep a child for ’bout a week
And really thou should have a job that pays thee more
Or two or three. That’s what poor lives are for
The quality of jobs is where it’s at
Thou should have got a chairmanship or such
Had friends in all the places that pay well
With bonuses and shares, expense account
For, it is decreed, that such jobs count
The quantity of hours in any day
Can now be stretched, extended as seen fit
In such ways, thou always now can work
For working cleanses souls and idle hands
Must always be kept busy, leisure’s banned
Thine quality of living’s thine own fault
Thou really must be shamed for being skint
Many hoops there are to make thus fact
And worst of cases filmed to entertain
Distracted public needs to ridicule your pain
Thus we count on garnering support
All scapegoats chosen carefully to show
The reason thou can’t clothe and house thine weans
Is not the fault of policies made to address
Our lack of mercy and godawful mess
The quality of hardship will be worse
Intervention from the state set to austere
With food banks on the side when things get tough
And Shylock’s basking mates will always bless
Jaws really gave poor sharks the worst of press
The quantity of earning’s a moot point
A minimum’s been set so that’s alright
Just live according to your means
And never mind essentials on the rise
Essentials are overrated – Surprise!
The quantity of bedrooms hath been fixed
And anyone with extra hath a cheek
And so it hath to be that people move
Tho’ maybe thou hath lived there all thine days
Tough shit, thou should have thought of other ways
The quality of disability’s up for grabs
Thou really must be dead to prove thee ail
And when thee are six feet under, be assured
We’ll help thine kids for all of several months
Bereavement’s no excuse for lazy cunts
For the quality of mercy hath not changed
It droppeth on the queen and all her breed
No matter just how many crew she hath
For that is just and righteous in these parts
All royalty and knaves move noble hearts
The quality of buildings must be saved
But only if they’re big and palace-like
Whereupon all pennies can be found
Even if it’s billions (or for bombs)
Whited sepulchres must be managed with aplomb
The quality of business hath been revoked
Some salvaging required to ease the pain
Worry not, tho’, lesser mortals, wheesht
Thou shouldn’t trouble selves with grown-up guff
Phew, that’s a relief, thought we were stuffed
The quality of humour’s in dispute
Wanker’s not a word that must be used
Tho’ it hath been sanctioned by the BBC
And worse is done in mercy’s tender name
No, the quality of mercy is not strained, it’s merely pained
*******************************************************
The quality of common sense hath gone astray
Some big boy stole it then he ran away
And blamed it on the suckers who must pay
That could be you or I but let’s not say
The quality of mercy saves the day
*************************************************
With sincerest apologies to Shakespeare who wrote of mercy kindly and with understanding. And who had a sense of humour.
Couldn’t have been a Tory, I’m thinking.
Ooh, look!
scottishmomus 