The Politician

A child was born, a Mother's boon, inside its mouth, a silver spoon.
It's wails and cries she would not hear, She's hired a nursemaid, never fear.
It really would be such a bother, to have to work at being a mother.
There really could be nothing worse, and so employed a children's nurse.
The child was hers without a doubt, when family came she brought him out,
From his nursery where he spent his days, growing through his childhood ways,
Until a young boy he became, spoiled and ready to play the game.
Although he tended towards the fool, his parents sent him to boarding school,
Where he could learn the wrong from right, and also remain far from their sight,
To have him home would be a drag, send him to Eton to be a 'Fag'
There he stayed for many years, suffering beatings and crying tears,
Until he finally reached the top, and alas, the beatings had to stop.
But in future years he knew he'd find, someone to chastise his body and mind.
His results were bad, but wait and see, he still gets in to University,
Family contacts bring down walls, soon he's in Oxford's hallowed halls.
Not there to study, never fear, but making contacts I do hear.
To get him in a secure place, no not on merit, but knowing a face.
He knows that he is a patrician, so turns his hand to a politician.
Of working classes he knows nought, but then of course places can be bought,
To ensure that life will not be rough and he gets his place at the feeding trough.
Although the parties seem miles apart, they're not you see, there lies the art,
of conning the voters, one and all, that there's a gulf across the hall,
opposing parties, right and left, with morals both are quite bereft.
No matter if they're Red or Blue, never think they're there for you.
They have no care for what you're needing, whilst at the trough their belly's feeding.
The sheer injustice drives you insane, whilst the 'Old Boy' network wins again.
They all are taught when really young, how to talk with a forked tongue.
Issuing promises, never kept, and whilst they fed, the nation wept.
To see how with accomplished ease, they brought the country to its knees.
Sold off our heritage, hard fought and won, with blood and sweat, but now it's gone.
Handed freely to the clutching hand, against which our fathers made their stand,
Not once but twice in two World Wars, the politicians have closed the doors.
Let's stay with Europe, they don't care, there's much more money making there.
Forget the migrants, it's not hard, (they won't be found in my back yard!)
Forget the crazy rules and laws, lets integrate without a pause,
Hand out money without a thought, (there's lucrative positions to be bought)
Forget your whinging and moaning groans, they spit on Britain's dying bones.
The only thing they care about, is where they can get a larger snout!

31.05.2016

Pollysyllabic