A male politician
Poorly served by an absent beautician
Strutted his flamboyance
Much to every ones annoyance.
His behaviour toward others
Especially young Mothers
Only added more pain
To his Marley formed chain.
Words truly unbalanced
Judiciously ungallant
Never his fault
Atomic number twenty seven, cobalt.
Civil servants disposable
fodder, quite unemotional
Nothing very notable
language, uncontrollable.
Fit to lead, others to supercede
Unfortunates may bleed
But never suppress his greed
March on, proceed.
The highest pinnacle
Not just a magnetic binnacle
An old Eton rake
Morals of an eastern indigo snake,
A zip-wire freak
Without any hidden mystique
Profligate with others money
With as much sense as an Easter bunny.
There struts a man of, diminishing stature
Who can eulogise over the death of Thatcher
The vile pair, will no doubt, tell
There was never a good reason, to put them in Hell!
Mike