The Lie of the Land (aka The Chancers)
Now we see the reason why
Brexiteers accept a lie
It is by lies they have their fun
For that is how their Brexit’s done
A broken ballot in a booth
Whipped up fear instead of truth
Of inbound massing Turkish hoards
Plastered on advertising boards
They do not see the consequence
Of self delusional nonsense
Their memory has also faded
Of what was said, by liars jaded
Who fantasised of an easy deal
That never ever could be real
While saying “really what’s the fuss?”
And printing “millions” on a bus
Imagine if we’d imagined then
Boris would end in number ten
By means of made up Brexit stories
Of extreme no-deal wreck-shit Tories
Who think like Cummings to move fast
And break things, then with plaster cast
The U.K. hobbled, without the crutch
Of Europeans to blame for such …
Problems as the NHS
Underfunded, now with less
Migrants left to prop it up
The medicine for us all to sup …
For many many many years
The grief and sorrow of the tears
Of those expecting milk and honey
Instead left without sufficient money
To pay for all the damage done
The die is cast, we let it run
A gamble worth it? Or mishap?
A game of chance, whose name is “crap”
Is this the deal they voted for?
Just to leave at any cost or …
Is it that they cannot admit
That they were conned (‘cos that feels shit)