Tuesday, August 10, 2010

The Song of the Whistleblowers














Look, he shouted, stop him now!
That banker's a thief!
That got him labelled a red,
whose protests were beyond belief.

Look, he pointed, it's obvious,
that copper's both violent and bent.
Since he spoke those words, his life
in a cell in Broadmoor's been spent.

Look, he swore, waving a fist in the air,
this judge just toes the government line.
That earned him an extra long sentence
on top of a crippling great fine.

Look, he reported, the records reveal
the Minister's drowning in graft.
They opened up the mines again,
dropped his body straight down a shaft.

Look, he begged, any fool can see
the Bishop's spouting lies.
They burned him at the stake
after plucking out both of his eyes.

Look, he explained, can't you read,
the press baron's a conman, a liar,
so the media ripped his tongue out,
then destroyed all his words on a fire.

Look, he warned, the writing's on the wall.
America's careering out of control.
They sent him to Guantanamo
to rot in their darkest hole.

Look, he wrote, in his big black book,
this poet's too scared to speak
and was condemned out of hand
as a crackpot, an illiterate freak.

Look, he laughed, can't you see
the Emperor's body is bare.
Now, if you search all public records,
you'll not find a trace of him  - anywhere.

Well done Wikileaks!

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