I don't know what this Britain is
that wants to guard a purity -
pure horse's-arse, some knee-jerk see,
bundled lies the fasces axes.
From ancient Brits the Saxons stuck
their laws and customs in the mud,
then Longship-Lords* soon tired of blood
and left their justice in the ruck.
The Normans with their Feudal vice
and then the Dutch, to give words wings,
to drain our fens, to be our Kings,
while ventures burned with avarice,
and evil wrongs our empire brought;
on our squeeze ne'er the sun must set;
and abject slaves within our net
were traded on deep twisted thought.
What goes around comes round, comes home
to roost within enlightened thought.
You shot her down; your bullet brought
me to my Rubicon. Be known,
If Brexit wins, then I will be
(for dickheads thick upon the ground
do prowl and prowl and prowl around)
in my own land, minority;
and I can't count them as my own,
these aliens that seize my land,
these Tory fools and worse that stand
to their far right, hearts of dressed stone.
.....................
*'Longship-Lords' is Vikings
