On the coronation of the next “most unpopular Prime Minister in History”
A blond haired lump of gormless bluster
The best the ruling class could muster
A racist homophobic lecher
A thoroughly obnoxious creature
He raised the poisoned chalice high
To drink the contents till its dry
He wants to lead the Brexit Charge
He’ll barely make a dozen yards
As cabinet members leave the room
The Tories face a certain doom
They cannot solve the Irish Border
They’re absolutely “out of order”
Awaiting more buffooning gaffes
The opposition sits and laughs
And hoisted by his own petard
A blithering Tory lump of lard
He’ll blame the poor
The gays, the blacks,
He’ll say he wants
“our country back”
But there’s no country for the poor
Old Boris is a rich man’s whore
He’ll pander to his Eton Chums
A bunch of nasty worthless bums
Who’d sell their Granny for a quid
And trample on a homeless kid
He’ll stumble and he’ll blither on
We’ll wonder where his wits have gone
Until at last it falls apart
And Boris flies off like a fart
To waft around the ruling circles
Emitting nonsensical burbles
Its time to throw him in the bin
And get the Labour Party in
To solve the problems of the poor
And show the Eton knobs the door
And while we’re on we’ll nationalise
The banks and the big industries
And Boris and his nasty chums
Can sit and suck each other’s thumbs
Terry McPartlan