Palace Challenge to the Party
It's a noble bird, is your gannet
Said the old fisherman to Janet
Who came from the neighbouring planet
We're Labour, so we want to ban it
Or dice it, deep-fry it and can it
It's just too upper class, mates, damn it!
Of politics, such remains our grasp
And if you don't like it, kiss my arse
The which I offer to the rasp
I say nay it is way to hairy
Lest I be considered a fairy
Conservative means 'made of fish',
According to Lilian Gish
Who ate her food from a golden dish!
Liberals, with open hand,
Praise gannets, yet slyly have them canned
Into party contraband
The National Trust is oft confused
With bombs that mice have once defused
In Nottingham's most sordid loos
The slimy knotted pondfish ooze
These slug-like creatures all vote Tory
And that's the moral of this story
Contributors: | Beefy, Fatty, Apsley, Bernard, TG, P, Anon.. |
Poem finished: | 23rd May 2001. |