Dylyn the dog will run free at Chequers Until summers end, so Johnson believes. Even now he clings on to the trappings, Unable to relinquish the dummy Of Prime Ministerial privelege. In his fevered mind he still has power, Places total blame on all and sundry, Sees no reason for any contrition, Likens own supporters to animals, With herd mentality the driving force That pushed him out the door of number ten, Fails to accept responsibility. Now all the talk is of his legacy, Shredders are buzzing, whitewash before tea
Spend our money on your war Forget about the poor Pass another nasty law We all see what you’re for Now you’re halfway out the door And lies flow more and more Everybody knows the score You’ve become such a bore Your ideas a running sore Leave now we all implore The pound falls through the floor Feels like nineteen eighty four Nothing left to restore Snake no longer guarantor You, rotten to the core Should swim now to distant shore Slip away power whore Never owt like this before You who saw work as chore Immorality galore Still not gone? Fetch a saw We’ll cut you loose whilst you snore, Get thee gone, smirk no more No-one loves you anymore.