Getting The Bird
I’m a compassionate rightist
A Conservative bursting with care
I don’t like the mean in the slightest
That’s why I’m in this, so there
I’m a poor-loving Tory – it’s why I enlisted
But it turns out that I may have never existed
Observe my unusual feathers
The thoughtful design of my beak
My long legs, so perfect in leathers
The cough in my song when I speak
I’m a fan of equality, almost hysterical
But it turns out that I may be wholly chimerical
When I was a hatchling or chick
Still eggy behind my young ears
The rich really got on my wick
With their kindness so far in arrears
That’s why I’m in this, humane to our kith
But it turns out that I am a muddle-head’s myth
What sympathy burns in my breast!
What tolerance lurks in my wing!
I’ve a warm and solicitous nest!
What worms I’ll remember to bring!
I’m here to be kind, as my conscience has weighed up
But it turns out in fact that I’m totally made up