Rats!

Rats! They fought the cops and fed the cats,
And kissed the babies in their bloomers,
And reeled off fifty million stats,
And sucked the sleaze from a tide of rumours,
Swept up the dregs of assorted prats,
Cracked down upon unwanted chats,
And soothed the noise of several spats
By dunking the speakers
And leakers and sneakers
In fifty brands of oils and fats.
At last the people, neatly scissored,
To the ballot-box came floating.
“Tis clear,” cried they, “this Blair’s a wizard;
Just taste New Labour’s sugar coating!
To think we might not keep the firm on
Defies belief! We like his sermon!
Dear Tony, keep your precious perm on!
What? Frogspawn early, full of slobber,
And natty rats in summer clobber,
And daffodils in dew, well-greased?
You’ll last two centuries, at least!”

   

[February 2002


           

From the book Make Mine A Double

Spring has come early, and rats are breeding throughout the year. Tony Blair asked that the next hundred years be spent “as far as possible” under a Labour government


with apologies to Robert Browning