Freedoms Dripping tap and its drip.
cult epic poem good versus evil underground fantasy world
And did those discs, from Wear and Tyne,
Walk upon TNT and are now unseen,
And was the holy voters rock of North,
Bailed out with joy by Mr Bean,
And did Abraham not moses rise,
With his four wise disciples to guide,
Who proferred gifts through their disguise,
Whose existance all but one denied.
Bring me my excuses, those still untold,
Bring me barrowloads of liars,
Bring me my peers, all those Ive sold,
Get them to set Harriet on fire,
Although Ive flinched from mortal fight,
And broken most laws of the land,
I will still proclaim myself in the right,
And know nothing of others plans.
Bring me my jeep, shot full of holes,
Bring me my gun, though should I fire,
They will bring my peers in courtroom cold,
And bring their charge to swing me higher,
My Lord commits me to mortal fight,
Whilst his ward sleeps in Scottish lands,
He giveth me half the 80s GDP,
To fight his wars with my bare hands.
Thus the feet of ancient fighting Lords,
Brought them upon such acts so mean,
And spoke just truth with one accord,
Exposing facts not public, slyly screened,
Our Stalin treats them with contempt,
Unless a photo opportunity calls,
Yet they die in wars he and Blair dreamt,
Erased from Queens Speech when they fall.
And did my gangs, in modern times,
Build upon Englands belt so green,
And was the holy lamb of God,
After my blue tongue never seen,
And did my countenance divine,
Shine forth above my shrouded ills,
And was my gulag land builded there,
Where all dissenting minds were stilled.
Bring me my bow of tarnished gold,
Bring apathy arrows to boredly fire,
Bring me my spear, if its not sold,
Bring me my Harriet and Byers,
I will not cease from mental fight,
Though not the sharpest in the box,
Till I have jailed most citizens by night,
And made others broke as Northern Rock.
So to my schools, a waste of time,
No one can read and no one cares a bean,
That they cant write is not a crime,
For they cant recount all theyve seen,
And still my countenance divine,
Shines upon students tall and small,
They should content themselves Im sublime,
Though they cant really learn at all.
Bring me my A & E, I fear a cold,
Bring me my doctors breathing fire,
Bring me my nurse, Im feeling old,
Bring me my private sector buyer,
I will myself use our hospitals,
Nor worry that my health be bugged,
For platinum BUPA are now my pals,
With personal rooms and expensive drugs.
Tough are my laws, and tough on crime,
Motorists quiver in their sleep,
Though theres a shot with every chime,
Though every day more families weep,
My countenance now has lesser shine,
Glowing dully through these twilight streets,
Where every dark corner harbours dread,
And we fear everyone we meet.
And did my feet from when a child,
Walk in my ministers fathers steps,
And did my voice not proclaim the same,
Maybe a virtuous me will not seem so inept,
And now my countenance is belied,
Not shining forth but badly dazed,
For thy cry to me that Im not Tony,
Just the man who stole your old age.
So did my feats in recent times,
Show me to be not quite on song,
My poetic chancellory so in rhyme,
Is mutating to alienly wrong,
Youd think too after years of Blair,
Id look pure white like driven snow,
But they spy devious me sitting there,
Avoiding elections as I go.
You did not vote at any time,
Yet I see fit to overrule,
I ruined pensions and sold gold,
And borrowed billions like a fool,
I have also shrunk from mortal fight,
With my sword now sheathed and quiet,
So with no mandate and no right,
I can feed them my communistic diet.
Bring me my trough, from which I feed,
Bring my index linked pension fine,
Bring me my banquets, watch my greed,
Whilst others credit cant afford to dine,
Ive taxed everyone whos drawing breath,
And ruined their pensions schemes to boot,
Whilst I have feathered my own cosy nest,
And made sure I leave with lots of loot.
And so my feet have served their time,
Trampling upon Englands traditions great,
Taking the history, and centuries of pride,
And submerged them in my sorry state,
Ive sold out liberties and freedoms won,
By lives sacrificed on fields of war,
And imposed arrest without any trial,
And Big Brother coming through your door.
Bring me my speeding cameras sly,
Bring me CCTV, dark spies and liars,
Bring me enforced entry to your house,
Bring me my lariats and pliers,
I will not spare a neutral voice,
Whilst implanting moles and 5 year plans,
Until Ive built my Leningrad,
In Englands green and ruined land.
Malcolm Pugh November 2007.
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