Rudolph the Red-Nosed Remaindeer
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Remaindeer
Spouted very strident prose
LibDem from hoof to antler,
He followed every line of Jo’s.
All of the other reindeer
At first they only laughed and joked
But Rudolph quickly had them thinking
The Leave vote might be best revoked.
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Farage came to say,
‘Rudolph’s nose is full of snot
And he’s talking through his bot.’
Then how the reindeer loathed him
And they shouted out with glee
Rudolph the red-nosed Remaindeer
Gallop off to Brussels . . . flee!
Good King Boris
Good King Boris he looked out
On the Feast of Brexit
When the snow lay round about
Clogging every exit.
‘Twas bright in Downing Street that night
Tho’ the frost could kill ya
When a poor man came in sight
With features half-familiar.
Hither Gove and stand by me,
If thou knowst it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
In Islington’s grim village
Surviving there on a few pence
And allotment swillage.
Bring me meat and bring me wine
(Late-vintage Rioja)
Thou and I shall see him dine
He really looks a shocker.
Gove and Boris braved the night
On them frostbite forming
Boris pulled his thermals tight
Where was global warming?
At Holborn Circus, caught they up
With the scarecrow figure
Now, quoth Boris, he shall sup
His belly shall wax bigger.
Plied they him with beef and grog
’Nuff to fill a four-bin
Then cried Boris, all agog
Why, gadzooks! ’Tis Corbyn!
We thought that all those years ago
With election failure
You Labour lot and LibDem Jo
Had sailed to Venezuela.
No, said Corbyn, once they knew
Their tickets were for steerage
McDonnell, Starmer, Abbott too
All took a Tory peerage.
Life since then has been no spree
I’m squatting in a coppice
To Downing Street take me with thee
And place me in high office
I’ll employ you in your need
Said Boris, if you’re willin’
A job where you can take the lead?
Yes, walking doggy Dilyn.
Away in the Commons
Away in the Commons, no crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jacob lay down his sweet head.
Outraged Hon Members they kicked up a stench,
As little Lord Jacob reclined on the bench.
The Speaker is yelling, young Jacob awakes,
But little Lord Jacob no apology makes.
I love thee, Lord Jacob! You’re just such a toff,
But get in your own bed next time you nod off.
