Julian Scutts Poet Burlesque

Down In Westminster

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I was  down in Westminster the other night

and there I saw a most horrible sight.

I thought I saw a man without a head.

Cromwell? I asked, or a king long dead?




I then saw a dame with a horrid lurid glance,

not quite the sort you'd be asking for a dance.

If not  Maggy, then who could it be?

I'm very sorry, mate. It's no use asking me,



Three weird sisters were there discussing Brexit.

One said leave it, and another tried to hex it.

 What did I witness? Was this  the 'monster mash,'

 or just politicians as they made an awful hash?




A lanky hooded figure invited me in

with a croaky voice and a sinister grin.

My entry would be easy; of that I had no doubt,

but the problem would then have been: how to get out.

 


Was it all that talk of a 'backdrop'

 that  made me hesitate?

When I got back home eventually,

it was very, very late.

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