A British Politicians’ Poem

I want a floating duck house,
I want to clear my moat,
I need to mend my tennis court,
That’s why I need your vote.

I have to build a portico,
My swimming pool needs mending,
My lovely plants need horse manure,
And the Aga needs much tending.

A chandelier is vital,
Mock Tudor boards are great,
My hanging baskets won awards,
And I’ve earned a tax rebate.

I need a glitter toilet seat.
My piano so needs tuning,
Maltesers help me stay awake,
And my orchard must need pruning.

I could have said the rules were wrong,
And often thought I should,
But somehow it was easier
To profit all I could

The public really have to see
That the rules are there to test,
And by defrauding taxpayers
We were just doing our best.

The Speaker of the House has gone,
Our sacrificial beast,
But the public are still braying
For our corpses at the feast.

What do the public want from us,
Those vote-wielding ingrates?
They really should be grateful
To be financing our estates.

The message is so very clear,
(we’re merely learning late)
That the British way of living well
Is to screw the bloody state.


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