Be careful with your vote, they said, ‘look out for us’ they mutter,
We’ll lose all of our fiscal clout, vote in, the politicians stutter,
What’s this financial benefit, ask the millions, empty hands,
Cry all you want, swear and weep, the country’s set on shifting sands.
A campaign spoke to those ignored,
The ‘feckless’ benefitting fraud,
We’ll get them out, we’ll save your land,
bring it back to something grand.
The London bubble floats around,
each voice an echo, makes no sound,
The rich, the educated classes,
Happily, they raise their glasses…
We’ll all be in, they’ll all be out, the wealthy immigrants all cry,
The country’s ours, this old, green land, cut apart like bits of pie,
We’ll take your houses, take your jobs, and leave you none the wiser,
Gone are your country mansions, castles, the cartoonish English miser.
What bitter lies, but now too late, the sands of time have slipped away,
How many would, if they’d the chance, go back and turn the other way?
The pebbles in the voting jar cannot be moved by air or water,
Led along, the poorest voices, carried all of them to slaughter.
‘What’s this European Union’, ask a thousand searching queries,
We should have told you, Laboured birds, on their way off home to eyries,
The blue blood hydra lost its head, two more will fight each other now,
Shouldn’t we protect the country? We need to move together: how?
Was there no plan, was this the play, was this madness all Unknown?
Purely then, a power game, a chessboard waiting to be thrown?
I’ve got no water, I’ll spit blood, I’ll bite my lip with hate, betrayed,
At what cost, and for what reason, was St George’s Dragon slayed?
This lizard’s not the only wyrm, a putrid bullfrog pulls the strings,
A ‘patriotic’ English cape thinly veils what’s within.
Just below its skin it seems the mythic beast is made of straw,
Our once old friends and allies stop, turn from this ‘patriotic’ maw.