Good-bye to expenses! They’re finished.
Hon members are looking quite grim.
Their wallets are sadly diminished,
And fat cats must face getting slim.
The public’s united in saying
That second homes shouldn’t be flipped.
There’s even a crowd out there baying
For all party whips to be whipped.
Yes, thanks to some devious leaker
The gravy train’s running no more,
And now the unspeakable Speaker
Has firmly been shown to the door.
Good-bye to expenses! Now sadly
They will not be paid if they scrounge
For a trouser-press (needed so badly)
Or a lovely new suite for the lounge.
The tragedy troubles them greatly:
“Those perks,” they say, “kept us afloat.
Will a member whose home counts as stately
Now have to maintain his own moat?
Do the people out there really grudge it,
Replacing our rugs when they’re worn?
We all needed more in our budget,
Like Jacqui Smith’s bloke needs his porn.
Good-bye to creative accounting
And claiming for pools and manure.
The fury of England is mounting -
Our golden age will not endure.
They elected us thinking us clever,
We proved it by cooking the books.
Have we broken the rules? Hardly ever –
You can’t call us actual crooks.
We simply made use of the system,
With just the occasional lie,
For just a few grand – who’d have missed ’em?
Oh lovely expenses, good-bye!”