Another topical poem. References to Boris Godunov – who supposedly murdered to gain the throne of Russia – and to Ode to Napoleon by Byron, on which the poem’s structure is loosely based.
Ode to King Boris
‘Tis done – the Bill has passed at last
And Parliament now dissolved
Your colours fixed to the Conservative mast
Though your sins still not absolved
Sycophants in the Street of Downing
Where you made your home just after crowning
Intensely are involved!
But gloom beyond the greyest glooms
Has descended on those dreary rooms
For someone has been the source of leaks
Pressmen and women have seen the report
Within the last few days or weeks
Though secret silence had been sought
And all including your most trusted adviser
May well assure that they are none the wiser
But the traitor must be caught!
The foreign media for blood are baying
And now the noblest nerves are fraying
A mere month before the early election
Supposed were you to be free of blame
Your reputation in need of protection
Newspapers continue to tarnish your name
So could a preposterous plan be hatched
That might by tyrant Trump be matched?
You know how to play the game!
An unnamed source must invent some stories
About heroic deeds only done by Tories
Remembrance Sunday – the ideal stage
When patriotism is no vain word
Where one can talk with Churchillian rage
And hostile facts would seem absurd
You could thus avoid any difficult question
And might even rebuff the slightest suggestion
You know well how to polish a turd!
The media would be part of the plan
To pay tribute to an unknown man
But when came the ceremonious day
All eyes were on the screen
The votes of millions and millions in play
No detractors could be seen
The cameras upon your person dwelled
As the wreath the wrong way up you held
Your state of dress a ghastly scene
Broadcasters rushed to save your blushes
Like gamblers playing their busted flushes
Now they are the ones accused of cheating
As you divert the nation’s attention
By destruction of opposition bleating
Vilification means voter retention
Go north to the floods to be seen a good neighbour
And cast doubt upon all plans of Labour
Promise never to request an extension!
Billions into the air can be tossed
For if you get no majority all is lost
So on to Fishlake fast you headed
Time only just to take in a mop
Your presence late but surely needed
Hoping for your hair the rain would stop
Did not the people your visit treasure
Or were there words of vague displeasure?
Your career has now reached its top!
Go back and grease that dancing pole
Lest your putrid past condemn your soul!
Let the Chancellor create your bulging budget
Let him find that magic money tree
He has experience, he knows how to fudge it
And no longer needs to earn a fee
The manifesto will be last minute
All detail vague, or lost within it
Your supporters will shout with glee!
Then leave discreetly by the servants’ exit
Onwards and upwards, let’s be done with Brexit!