The Bullingdon Club

The Bullingdon Club In the hallowed halls of Oxford's elite, A secret society did convene, A gathering of privileged retreat, A club known as the Bullingdon team. With tails and bow ties and polished shoes, They swigged their champagne and plowed their way, Through the city's streets, with no excuse, Causing damage that others would pay. Their laughter and shouts filled the air, As they smashed their glasses and tipped their plates, Their wealth and power beyond compare, A reckless display of their estate. Their arrogance reeked of entitlement, As they wreaked havoc with their brawn, A display of wealth and refinement, With no regard for the damage they wrought upon. For they were the privileged few, Born with silver spoons in their mouths, Their actions were beyond review, And their behavior beyond any doubts. The Bullingdon Club still reigns, A reminder of the power of the few, Of how wealth and privilege retains, An insidious grip on the world's view. So let us strive to topple this regime, To dismantle this system and rebuild anew, For the world deserves a just and fair esteem, Where all have the right to thrive and pursue. Bullingdon boys Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Joe Maverick