The Leech Clamps-On
Hang-out the bunting,
And string-up the flags,
Polish-up the fronting,
And hide-away the rags –
Toady-up with treacle
And dream of days-of-yore –
We’ve never been less equal
Since the Second World War.
Roll-out the barrel,
And goose-step the boot,
Sing along the carol
While standing to salute.
Tweet-away like blackbirds,
And dream-away like cats,
We’ve never been more backwards
Since our arses got so fat.
Shout-out the new reign,
And ra-ra the crowds.
Hope it turns out nice again –
Ignore the bolshy clouds.
Top-hole and tally-ho,
And dream we rule the waves –
We’ve never had a say, though,
Since we’re corporation slaves.
Dig-out the three-piece,
And doff caps and bonnets,
The fawning must not cease
In its biscuit-tins and sonnets.
Tear-up far too eager,
And dream of wealth unchecked –
We’ve never been so meagre
Since we sold our self-respect.
Rhyming Couplets 