The House of Dissary
Brexit fekin Brexit
Will it ever go away?
On our telly willy nelly
In the papers every day
Political misdemeanours
The house of disarray
Preaching without listenin
Tunnel vision Mrs May
Corbyn talks to terrorists
But not to our P.M
Lip reading “stupid woman”
Beneath a silent Big Ben.
The speaker called for order
Amid whorahs and cries
Jeremy says he didn’t
She stares cold piercing eyes
She crumples her face up
Twitching head to her side
The right honourable gentleman
Then cowers stoops and hides
Her deal dead in water
Sunk like that big ship
But she won’t let go of it
With her stubborn clad grip
Leavers shouting misdemeanours.
At remainers, it’s not FAIR!
Families and the neighbours
Fighting battles everywhere
Stocking up with Asprins
To sooth our Brexit pain
Medicine cupboards closing
Never opening again
Brexit fecket Brexit
Feckin hang it out to dry
Never ever mention It!
Till the day that I…er Die…
Wulfrunian
Poetry by
Patrick
Copyright@writtenby
Patrick Kevin O’Shea
23/01/2019
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