More in the same vein

And now an ode to those budget, no-frills airlines:

I the Lord of air and sky,

I have made my victims cry,

All who dwell in northern climes,

My planes will fly.

I who made the travellers weep,

And deprived them of their sleep,

Treated them like silly sheep:

Whom shall I try?

Here I am, Lord!

Is it I, Lord?

I received your email in the night.

I will go, Lord,

if you text me;

I will store your number in my phone.

I, the Lord of queue and strain,

I will give my victims pain,

They will weep, but never shall

they turn away!

I will break their hearts of stone,

Make them pay for every bone

That my staff will throw to them,

Whom shall I try?

Here I am, Lord!

Is it I, Lord?

I received your email in the night.

I will go, Lord,

if you text me;

I will store your number in my phone.

I the Lord of bargain shame,

I will rob the poor and lame,

I will sell a feast to them,

My bank will save.

Mouldy rolls I will provide,

Till their gorges start to rise,

I will take their life from them,

Whom shall I try?

Here I am, Lord!

Is it I, Lord?

I received your email in the night.

I will go, Lord,

if you text me;

I will store your number in my phone.