Sir Philip Green, who bled BHS clean,
Has Non-Disclosure Agreements that smell;
Says he’s ‘touchy-feely’ but no way obscene,
The Telegraph says—'Sir Phil, go to hell!’
And there have been threats to some former staff,
Of legal action if they voice the facts;
‘Revenge will be mine’, he says with a laugh,
On briefs on ‘banter’ and my other acts!
Those, it’s alleged, by all those kissed and groped,
Were hushed-up by gags, which then were imposed;
On numbers of girls; who would, he then hoped,
Be silenced with cash—it’s since been disclosed.
It shows how the rich, can break all the rules,
This rule for the rich, but none for the poor;
By using their wealth as sexual tools,
Democracy falls—when they buy the law!
Now all's been revealed, Sir Philip’s quite gruff,
Both livid and mad , he sported a frown;
Whilst phoning The Telegraph to huff-n'-puff,
When caught out of Court, with his trousers down!
© Richard Layton