My child, behold Theresa May,
Who threw a winning hand away.
Elected to a good safe seat,
Her chief concern was for her feet:
Though she did nothing glorious,
Her shoes became notorious.
As Minister for Women, she
Did nothing useful one could see,
A practice that she did not vary
When she became Home Secretary.
Pretending to curb immigration,
She added millions to the nation,
And most of them were Muslims, but
She pissed them off by banning qat.
Events then started to unroll
When Cameron had to hold a poll
On membership of the EU,
Aimed to remain, and she did too.
But when the vote and count were done,
Oh fatal day! The Leavers won.
Candidates rushed to take Dave’s place
But, strangely, fell out of the race.
The only one left standing, May,
Now had her coronation day.
Of course she said that we would leave,
A claim the wise would disbelieve.
While we were longing to get out
She made brave speeches, and did nowt,
And finally, to danger heedless,
Called an election that was needless,
Lost her majority. She’s toast,
But Brexit is a fading ghost.
Few can guess what her conduct means,
But I think that behind the scenes
A gang of horrible old men
Shunted her in, and out again.
She was a dummy made of straw
For Tory elders – nothing more.
They clearly chose Theresa May
As weak, easy for them to sway.
Their aim in using her was sure:
To get their EU sinecure;
And what they did to our poor nation
Was not part of their speculation.
But now, perhaps our wish is granted,
For May has got what she least wanted.
A deal looms with the DUP,
Conservatives with a small c.
They’ll hold her famed feet to the fire
And get whatever they desire.
Dear child, if you become a front
For vested interests, you’re a cunt.
© Tachybaptus 2017