Tuesday, 13 November 2018

'twas the night before Brexit ( poem/parody )

'twas the night before Brexit
And all through the House
Not a creature was stirring
Not even the Louse
The Primeminister sat down at Chequers with care
She could never be sure what Boris had done to her chair
The Cabinet were nestled all snug in their beds
Whilst naked visions of Mogg & Gove danced in their heads
Theresa in her stillettos and Raab being dab
Thinking about the DUP and what they would nab
When out on the lawn there was such a clatter
David Davis voice shouted out 'whats the matter'
Away to the window did May with a dash
As Juncker appeared on the lawn in a flash
Michael Barnier waved papers and made quite a show
Whilst Boris & Starmer stood there toe to toe
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Jeremy Corbyn in his leathers with cheer
With a soundbite, he appeared so lively and quick
As he made his Brexit case and the Remainers quite sick
More rapid than Eagles, Jeremy Hunt came
And he called on all his Mps by name
Now Grayling Now Hammond Now Hancock Now Soubry
On Evans On Lewis On Liam Fox On McVey
To the top of Number Ten to the top of the Wall
Now all you Tories come answer Mays Call
She has you a Brexit that may not be what youd grasp
But you dont want Boris Hard One, it would sting like an asp
As Barniers barbs like a wild hurricane fly,
When Brexit meets an obstacle, it seems to reach to the Sky;
Socialmedia debates are raging out there too,
The Cabinets falling apart even with the Chief Whips glue,
And then in a twinkling, I heard that the truth
was that Boris was prancing with each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the corridors of Westminster Theresa was bound:
She was dressed all in red, from her head to her foot,
Rees Mogg and Davis chuckled, imagined her covered in soot;
A bundle of Memos were flung in her sack,
And she look'd like a peddler just opening her pack:
Her eyes- How they twinkled, her simple and merry
It felt like our Theresa had been at the Sherry
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Her face was ashen and as white as the snow,
Barnier had stumped her as she grinded her teeth
On the altar of Brexit she laid a great wreath.
Tusk was broad faced with a little round belly,
Theresa crying ‘Irish backstop’ all over the telly,
Chubby and plump like a jolly old elf
Boris still promised all the money for the National Health
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know we had plenty to dread.
Theresa spoke not a word, she continued to work,
Arguing with the DUP & with Boris the jerk
And laying her finger aside of her nose
And giving a nod, from her desk she arose
She sprung to the Commons desk to announce with a whistle
The SNP listened hard with their suits dressed with thistle,
We heard her exclaim, as she summoned her might,
Brexit means Brexit and still my Chequers plan is right.

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