Gina-Bombina-Feeeeena!

There once was a lady, Gina was her name,
She liked to think she understood the "Money Game."
A woman quite plump, she ate only the finest meats,
Which she could afford thanks to her daddy, a man not of modest means.

"Bring down the wages!" She would cry from her tower,
As she supped and dined from her position of power.
A position not worked for, not hard-earned or won,
But inherited, thrust upon her,
A finger did she lift? Not one!

It's all well-and-good to say "Workers, work more!"
But my dearest Gina, what have you worked for?
Do you know what it means not to have enough money?
To be unable to afford butter, bread or even honey?

Methinks you hath eaten too well as of late,
Your mouth is even bigger than the girth that you weight!
It might sound quite harsh, but by all accounts is true,
For we here in reality are starving because of you.

You who owns more than you could ever hope to spend,
You think you know money, but let me tell you, friend,
Money is not all there is to life,
What of love? Of friendship? Of husband and wife?

You could buy all these things at a token price I suppose,
But like the world you live in, it would be a facade,
A life unreal, cold and alone...
So before you tell us to work ourselves to the bone,

Eat our our table, dine on our bread,
Work at our desks and fields, lie in our beds,
See what it is to live a life hard, real and true,
And then maybe, just maybe, we'll listen to you.