lewis carroll on the economy - rough

the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things
of run on banks and interest rates and insider trading rings
of why the economy grows not, and the pains a meltdown brings

a glint in his eye, a lick of the lips as the walrus sells
false hope to an audience trapped within their shells
and the little ones listen rapt, willing prey to his spells

Buddha belly earthquake rumbles, hunger never sated
walrus and the carpenter, demons we've created
as the be-tusked, be-vested fat one pontificated

artificial scaffolds grown silently in the background
building a fire pit and spit on which to turn around
cooking up the fat of millions, eat us pound by pound

as the unwary little bivalves pay their bailout tithes
they don't realize that they are mortgaging their lives
waiting for salvation while on the cross they writhe

gobbled down with pepper and vinegar to taste
the walrus weeps as his teeth make paste
the carpenter reasons 'we can't let food go to waste'

what a price the little clams paid to be saved
to end up in the belly of a pair of knaves
happy they may be, live forever in their graves