Poor

An investor who played the square mile
Who received an award for his style,
When returns wouldn't come shoved his cash up his bum
And left stock to accrue for a while.

To boost his investment, and so profit more
As much as was physically able,
He added some cheques and some Premium Bonds
While his Guilts dribbled out on the table.

The incentive was shown to be unrepresentative
He being notably flush;
So with vault doors well parted he forcibly farted
Brown pulp that shat out in a gush.

The mixture, in texture not different to soup
That had exit the bowel in a hurry,
Had totally soaked several towels being used
"To keep carpet from stains and save money."

The smell that it made would a dead rat degrade
At a whiff folks would comment "A-men!"
On refusal of credit for having the habit
The bank told him never again.