I do not live by faith – but MasterCard,
And for that comes a day of reckoning.
To live by faith means walking on the surf
With no support seen just as steps on earth.
It’s not that I don’t know and trust you, Lord
Or that you don’t sustain and guide my way
I eat so quickly I don’t savor food
Charged for tomorrow rather than today.
I’m not sure how I got into this loop
Of forward action, running from the past
It is my fear not faith that moves me on
Each purchase made more precious than the last.
And so I eat tomorrow’s daily bread
And trust my card to somehow heft the load
One step ahead of wolf I try to keep
The banks know me – and more to spend they goad.
Banks live by faith and scorn the credit card
Their leveraged spread encompass well the prime
They draw their blood from life’s necessities
Not purchased ease or luxury sublime.
I saw some farmers play the game of pride
Ashamed to falter ’neath their load of debt
Caught in a price-squeeze they could not control
Spend needed funds good image to protect.
They lived a bubble-life ’twas just a shell
While life inside was stress beyond belief.
Family relations made in hell
Their faith that next year brings relief.
The game goes on just like my MasterCard,
Slick shiny trucks they drive, ‘no rust on me’
The banks keep watch while playing out their rope
And let them take their winter trip to ski.
Then comes the day of all our reckoning
When bankers call us on our spending game
The assets seized and sold just cancel out
All debt from life and skirting of our shame.
I find it strange that banks don’t seem to lose
But reap great profits in the stress
They keep watch on farmers' bottom line
Then pull the plug one step ahead of rest.
It used to be that farmers milked the cows
Up with the sun with chores to tend and feed
Now it’s the bankers milking do
Not tending wounds – but more to bleed.
When farmers fail to make it work for them
New folks from Europe come and take their place
They’ve sold their farms for much inflated price
The bankers smile and Europe's money take.
In rural life the farm scene does not work
The cause complex, deep running to our past
We MasterCarders on the margins spend
All players in the game – our lot is cast:
When cows get old they off to slaughter go
Then they’re replaced by young productive ones
The banks milk farmers just like MasterCard
‘Final solution’ set up by our sons.