Felix Dennis

I do not lend them money now,
(Or very rarely, anyhow).
It saves a friend. And saves a row.

You’d be surprised where friendship ranks
With those who think their friends are banks.
There’s far more bricks than roses, thanks!

By some contorted somersault
It all becomes ‘your bloody fault’.
It took me years to call a halt.

Some think you mean, some think you shrewd,
Far better that they think you rude
Than suffer their ingratitude.

And wise the man who will not lend,
But in the dead of night will send
A gift. And thus, will save a friend.