Swan Song of An Old-Guard Tory

SWAN SONG OF AN OLD-GUARD TRUE-BLUE TORY I am one of the last of a dying breed, I’m an antique true-blue Tory. I grew up on Super-Mac And ‘the Land of Hope and Glory.’ In Rab Butler I once found A man both mild and sane. Ted Heath I took with a pinch of salt. Maggie Thatcher caused me pain. Her politics were tough and right, But I found her style too brash. She was less concerned with social need Than she was with sordid cash. John Major held his horses. He was middle-of-the-road. Perhaps he was a shade too nice To fit the worldly mode. When Cameron came, the rot set in. I mean that referendum. Why dabble with these dubious things? There's no reason to defend ‘em. Theresa May did what she could To sort out the Brexit shambles But failed at last to free the land From the consequence of gambles. Boris Johnson ends the list Of Tories hale and hearty, And, to boot, as I do fear, What’s left of the Old Tory Party. To Liz or Richi falls the task To clear up after Boris. w=Were not the better place if he had kept to Horace. Is the land I loved so well Now the land of grope and gory? Woe is me if I must close With heavy heart this story.