The v highbrow political poetry thread

[badgermonkey]

So Carol Anne Duffy has weighed in, and I'm sure we all agree this makes things much clearer:

Here's a boat that cannot float.

Here's a queue that cannot vote.

Here's a line you cannot quote.

Here's a deal you cannot note ...

and here's a sacrificial goat,

here's a cut, here's a throat,

here's a drawbridge, here's a moat ...

What's your hurry? Here's your coat.

I'm pretty sure we can do better.

There once was a loser called Brown,
Whose face was etched in a frown.
Under him, our debt soared;
And troops were ignored.
Thank God Gordon Brown has gone down.

Brown reduced
Cameron Boost
Clegg seduced.

cleggy has the power
Gordons had his hour
Camerons still a twat

cleggy makes a choice
Gordons lost his voice
cameron is a twat

Cleggy eats paella
Gordons gone all yella
Cameron is a twat

Cleggy attended Westminster
Gordons face is sinister
Cameron is a twat

Cleggy likes rich tea
Gordy likes a choccy biccy
Cameron is a twat

thanks i'm a natural

Custardo, I voted con but I honestly did laugh out loud at that poem. very very funny.

Well done, good poem.

There once was an MP called Cameron
Whose projected majority once took a hammerin'
He said "oh, please Nick... See more
Jump in bed with me quick"
And soon all the yellows were clamourin'.

Ack, ignore the 'see more', I c+p it from my facebook!

The public voted
Three ways. The result floated
for days. Who will win?

and, less prosaically.

if is brown, flush it down,
if its yellow, let it mellow...
With blue, maybe it'll do.

So Dave has (kind of) won the election
I reckon it's due to his silky complexion
Coz whenever Gordon did that weird gurn
It made the nation's stomach churn
And when he insulted Gillian Duffy
Some people got somewhat huffy
So now Nick Clegg (for whom not many voted)
Has got the choice about who gets promoted
And even though Gordon's a miserable git
I'd rather Labour than Tory coz the eighties were shit.

feralgirl

Custardo - you should get that published it is brilliant

twas in the year of 20-10
when came the time to vote again
the people turned out 'cross the nation
and headed for their polling station
if lucky and they were on time
they got to mark their cross, all fine,
but if they dared to leave to late
they never got to play with fate
for doors were locked
and voters sent packing
the admin was crap, and staffing was lacking,
the votes were counted and some seats changed
but no clear cut winner this time,its strange
some new faces replaced some dead wood,
Dave-boy did well, Cleggy not good
Gordon felt sick, the voters felt sicker
remembering next time to get there quicker

damn, too late, obviously

nice work custardo. piss funny

Gordon smile your smile for me,
I voted for you at half past three,
I held that pencil, stomach churning,
Whilst thinking of you grinning/gurning.

I made my mark, I left the booth,
I walked away and said 'Forsooth
I'll support you Gord, for ever more',
I meant it then, but not no more.

A double negative marred my rhyme,
Bad grammar on my final line,
The previous verse, I'm sure you noted,
Brought upon by the way I voted.

For I know now, and I didn't then,
If Gordon vacates Number 10,
A fight will begin for GB's place,
And the one in line to bag that space,

Is David Miliband, so bookie's say,
Will get the job once Gord's on his way,
Now there's a man I'd sit upon,
So sod off Gordon, get thee gone!

Enfranchised by great grandmama
Since Pankhurst's time we've come so far
As this, and then it seems we've stopped
Gone backward to another lot
Of men, and mess, in smokeless rooms;
Excluded by productive wombs
We sit at home and wait for news
Or lies, or someone else's views
Of who we are and what we need
With clothes to wash, and mouths to feed,
Can we trust them, any one,
With gurns and grins, and what they've done
Like rappers, all their praises sung
Ah yes, our members are well hung.

forty years ago the PM said,
'who governs Britain?' and it was coal.

thirty years ago the PM said,
'who governs Britain?' and it was oil.

since then we have bathed in it, drunk it, dreamed it,
sold it, spent it, farmed with it,
fought for it, killed for it, bombed for it.

we hate those who make us fight for it.
almost as much as we hate doing without it.

a week ago the PM said,
'who governs Britain?' and we said,
well, not you.

Very good babymutha