Eggs Is Eggs
I’m chucking an omelette at Osborne,
And hurling a boiled egg at Dave
I hope that they soak
In the rich, runny yolk,
As they don’t know which way to behave.
I’m dunking young Clegg in meringue
And Doug Alexander I’m beating –
They still won’t address
In this yellowy mess
The fat cats they should be unseating.
As for sticking our two Eds together,
Their plots are the one thing to thicken –
So I’m taking my aim
At their lacklustre game
To lob them the fruit of the chicken.
It’s no good you telling me UKIP,
Or any more groupings who’ve shambled
Their way into polls
Are achieving our goals –
I want the whole lot of them scrambled.
Politics, never a fine art,
Is a flush that’s been totally busted –
Eggs, I’ll chuck eggs,
Or else meat pies from Gregg’s.
Even Don’t Knows are no longer trusted.
Minister, MP and voter,
Monarch and bishop and lord,
Must be pelted and jeered
Till they’ve all disappeared
And there’s something we might just applaud.
Click here for a Guardian article
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Ringers