The demise of spaffer is a long haul;
he doesn’t want to go at all.
No longer in number ten,
he can’t accept he’s a has been.
Squatting at Chequers with all his pals,
arranging titles to give them all.
He has no decorum, not a bit; in
fact he’s a candy floss piece of shit.
He’s made us the laughing stock of the world,
while he partied and danced, breaking the rules.
He’ll be remembered, of that I am sure-
for lying and cheating, and so much more.
He’s currently under investigation-
he lied to the house, to the rest of the nation.
Yet he still has a fan club of sycophants
who want him back, to fulfil their plans.
Let the bodies pile high, he cried-
the people who matter will not die.
The rich, the powerful are important to me;
while the peasants die, we’ll do as we please.
The ones in power look after their own
and occasionally throw the dog a bone.
The dog, being us who pay our taxes-
the tories are a Bunch of selfish bastards.