Dear prospective manager,
Don't bother to look for
The Loch Ness Monster
or my last recorded credit score.
Both are beyond bound'ries
Where a sane man will not tread.
Both, if you should find them,
Would most surely knock you dead.
I have given ev'rything
That I have ever owned
Back unto the wretched bank,
Who once so quickly loaned
Me money for my mortgage
And my car and sundry stuff –
Yes, when they gave me credit
all the world was not enough!
Today I'm in a shelter
And my lunch is mac and cheese,
And I haven't got the income
Of a troupe of circus fleas.
A job would come in handy,
But I see by your demeanor
You'd rather see me out the door,
Much wiser and much leaner.
How I hope the people
Who are running Equifax
Eat a hearty meal
Of poison and old carpet tacks!
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