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Mining Poetry by Joel Tankersley
The Promoter
Listen my friend, hear my thoughts,
I shall not seek absolution.
I was driven mad by a promoter who had,
grand ideas of delusion.
"You can get on right right now kid,
I'll put you in charge of a drift.
In a week we'll be up and running,
that will give this old hole a lift.
This lease has the finest potential,
it assays the highest per ton.
It's mad millions in that last decade,
it's almost ready to run."
"You say your an able miner,
how about working for shares
It may be burgers today,
but you'll soon dine on the finest of fare."
I looked around the shop wearhouse,
mill and the dump.
He's words were pretty enticing,
my heart it started to pump.
But I noticed his pickups had
various names, companies long gone under.
Equipment all had brand new paint,
and had seen it's share of thunder.
Yes I'll let you in right, kid, said he,
a stock option we could raise.
I've seen things go from a nickel,
to to a hundred in a couple of days.
He spun and yacked and talked away,
of dollars , quarters and dimes.
The Lucky, the Gold bug, Eureka,
his many successful mines.
"I'll put you on tommorow kid,
I only hire the best.
Don't forget what I told you,
in this mine you should probably invest."
Obtuse I stood sort of star struck,
those mines he happened to mention.
I read in the Mining Record,
were all in banking retention?
That’s all it took the light came on,
Pay attention and you'll agree
I learned more about him in five minutes,
than in a lifetime he learned about me.
Copyright Joel Tankersley
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