Sir John Harvey – Jones
Born Again
Sir John Harvey-Jones, Sir John Harvey-Jones,
Natty, cravaty in multiple tones;
Twin trouble-shooters appended to thigh,
Ancient submariner, ex I.C.I.
Sir John Harvey-Jones, Sir John Harvey-Jones,
Prophet of profit as writ in the stones;
Magnanimous animus of corps d’esprit,
Making It Happen in books, on TV.
What wisdom you toss us for cutting our losses,
You fabulous, famed flagellator of bosses;
How wise to chastise all us corporate sinners
For our wailings and failings as world-beating winners.
Keep on bruising our egos for driving Montegos
And lacking ambition as tall as a tree grows;
Make us higher aspirers, inflame and re-wire us,
Believers, achievers of all you desire us.
Sir John Harvey-Jones, Sir John Harvey-Jones,
Of the swash-buckle chuckle and gravelly moans.
We’re thinking you’re winking behind the mystique,
Where you’re Jack Commonsensical, tres sympathique.
Sir John Harvey-Jones, Sir John Harvey-Jones,
Burnished and furnished with zeal in your bones;
Avuncular guru to corporate men,
Your melody lingers – but sing it again.