Rigs of the Time
No wonder that butter's two dollars a pound;
I've seen the rich politicians, how they drive up and down,
And when you ask them the reason, they cry, "Oh, alas!
"There's a war on in Bosnia, so we had to tax gas."
'Tis of the executive, I must bring him in
Turns his wages to gold while he hands workers tin
He complains there's no cash to keep running the shop
Then we find he's paid more than the company dropped.
And next come reporters, we must bring them in;
The write almost nothing, and think it's no sin
A quick line on the war in the Balkans -- absurd!
But of Georgia and Ireland there's nary a word. (or Somalia, or Lebanon, or ...)
Now, the very best plan that would solve this whole scuttle
Is to pack them all in to a faulty Space Shuttle
And when they got up to where Challenger stood,
These biggest of rascals would flame out for good.
Written 1993 by Gerald L. Bliss.
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The original of this song was recorded by Michael Cooney. The word "rigs" refers to tricks, i.e., "This game is rigged."