The steely knives are drawn with haste
backstabbing is a moral fate
They fall like flies upon the dung
A close colleague, a dear old mate.
The numbers are dwindling quite fast
the contest takes a speedy pace
a party of a non-unite
a learned friend smacked in the face.
They talk of things so great and bold
how this country unite will rise
but all this lying through their teeth
staring at you with hidden eyes.
Fat bonuses for heads of the banks
corporate tax cuts for the greedy
celebrations for austerity
but what is left for the needy?
Entrepreneurs in finance and trade
they brag their status off aloud
sitting on their higher horses
each one of them sinful and proud.
But what of the working classes
who warily gave them their lot?
they labour then visit food banks
cut this, cut that, till they have not.
Squabble and fight without an end
this great, so called, party unite
oh, what a terrible shamble
a bunch of fools, shower of shite.
Stabbing, stabbing, is there no end? their minds and hearts full of fury and yet they couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery.
© D Marsden 2019