POLITICAL NONSENSE

As the title suggests....

Loathsome was a lady snurge

Who lived on Downing Street,

She wore expensive knickers

And her wardrobe was complete

When she paraded leather trousers

With their very shiny seat.

Her thoughts were quite acerbic,

She quipped now and again

How her greatest joy in living

Was other people’s pain

And the way they wept in anguish

At the cruelties in her brain.

She wandered here and everywhere

With an entourage of two

That she changed with computer cunning

Into a really mighty queue,

Then addressed the couple cheering -

And a cameraman she knew.

Her words went round and round the globe,

Her thoughts became a label

For everything her heart desired

That might be strong and stable

And even Trumpy wet his pants

When he watched her on his cable.

But Loathsome’s time was up at last,

It happened one cold day

When someone caught a toxic whiff

From her hundred pounds of clay,

A whiff that spelt her name in scent,

At the wettest end of May….

© Peter Rogerson 29.05.17