The market, Salonica

The market, Salonica
The market, Salonica

Thursday, 30 May 2013

The Rime of the Senior Ally

Tories here, and Tories there,
And Tories all around:
They cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
‘God help us save the pound!’

At length uprist an Activist,
Thorough the fog he came;
As if he’d been the Tory Queen,
We hailed him in God’s name.

And a good Right wind sprung up behind,
The Activist did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the Party’s hollo!

But some in dreams assur’ed were
How the Activist plagued them so;
Nine fathom deep how he would creep
From the land of the mist and snow.

The PM’s Senior Ally,
‘The Party,’ he insists,
‘Has hired eftsoons mad, swivel-eyed loons
To be its activists.’

And the good Right wind still blew behind,
But no Activist did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the Party’s hollo.

Voters, voters, everywhere,
But the Activist did stink,
Voters, voters, everywhere,
And the Tory vote did shrink;

For the Ally did a hellish thing,
And it would work ’em woe:
For all averred, the ones he slurred
Had made the vote to grow.

‘God save thee, Senior Ally!
From what fiends and plagues exist! –
Why lookst thou so?’ – ‘With my memo
I slurred the Activist.

‘Ah! Well a-day! what evil looks
Have I from old and young!
In the wind I pissed, now the Activist
About my neck is hung.

‘Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
“Abandon ship and join UKIP,”
A gull cried out to me.

‘I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And my balls like pulses beat;
For UKIP in the sea, and UKIP in the sky
Lay like a load on my Tory eye,
And the loonies won my seat.’

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