The Weekly Poem

Brock Star

I could kill a badger with my hands ungloved and bare

I could break the back of any fox or stoat or hare

I could swallow minnows with no smidgen of a doubt

I could kiss a wild boar on its hairy little snout

Far too many immigrants are flocking to our shores

None of them could ever kill a badger in the cause

I could kill a badger with my fingers and my thumbs

I could suck a snake to death by flexing all my gums

I could bust a buzzard’s gizzard with a canny wink

I could dance with ferrets, do mazurkas with a mink

Islamists attack our shops, our daughters and our pets

None of them could ever strangle badgers in their setts

I could take a badger out, my skin upon its fur

I could smash a Siamese cat that had a vicious purr

I could slaughter wildebeests, my pen-knife sharp and proper

I could murder herds of tigers, never come a cropper

Foreigners are killing Britain with their nasty habits

They couldn’t waste a badger or some homicidal rabbits

That’s it for the badger, for the dirty little brock

And now I’ll tie the Union Jack upon my tiny cock