A Brand New Pound Bit With A Tracking Device

A brand new pound bit with a tracking device
Has now been spent and paid its price
But hold on a moment the tills been sprung
He’s been passed on quickly in exchange for a bun
Thrown into the dark with lots of other rifle
In and out of daylight traded in for trifles
If only he hadn’t been forged in a furnace
He might have been a nifty and splashed about in earnest
Struck by the mint not cut out for fame
Left in old trousers or dropped down a drain
A sole purpose in life is to wear out people’s pockets
Or left as a tip or stored in misers wallets
A humble scrap of metal with no intrinsic value
Dropped on floors rolling under tables
Picked up by a cleaner with an eagle eye for money
Converted once again for a pot of runny honey
Nocturnal transactions throughout the wee small hours
In exchange for commodities fags drugs or flowers
It starts to turn snide at eleven
o’clock sharp
When it’s spent in a pub for an Ice cold half
Given back as change or make weight for a round
It’s not all wine and roses in the life of a pound
But the worst thing of all or so it would seem is being stuck in the slot of a condom machine
Get poked by keys as they attempt to prise you out
Shove you with penknives further down the spout
So resign yourself to your hopeless position
Chewed up and bent and out of commission
You’ve passed through the hands of dealers thieves and liars
Now you would spend yourself for a man with some PLIERS