A Modest Hope

Tachybaptus, Going Postal

The end of May, O happy day, she’s gone at last!

Can Boris take the leap, and break free of the past?

The way is steep, and he must keep a steady course;

Traitors abound, whom he must pound without remorse.

His party’s full of timid, dull dishonest men

Who’d put us back on the old track, in chains again.

Has he the will to foil their ill, and crush the foe?

We’d like to think he will not blink – but do not know.

It’s early yet: his Cabinet looks none too sound,

While in the House there’s many a louse crawling around.

If he should quail, and drift and fail, he will be lost;

His party too, and me and you, to our great cost.

We dare to hope Boris will cope with this one task:

He need do nowt, then we’ll be out – that’s all we ask.

So long, EU, we shan’t miss you, we shall be free,

While all the left, of sense bereft, are crying REEEE!

Should he succeed, this single deed will make his name;

So keep your head, Boris, and tread the path to fame!

 

Copyright © Tachybaptus 2019
 

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