A poem entitled: The Night Before Brexit
’Twas the night before Brexit and, plagued with a stoop,
Old Boris, though ninety, was all cock-a-hoop. ,
After decades of wrangling, despair and dismay,
The affable rogue had at last got his way.
Jo Swinson, now wizened and withered with age,
No longer could muster derision or rage,
While Corbyn, inclined to the Zionist way,
Was set on becoming a rabbi one day. !’
The Nation, despondent and down on its knees,
Unable to fathom the wood from the trees
Was sick to the back teeth of outcomes delayed
And couldn’t care less if we left or we stayed.
Twas the night before Brexit with nothing to dread
But settling with Europe in years still ahead
And Britain predestined for doom or delight –
Happy Brexit to all, and to all a good night.
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