The Parable of the Pipe-Down Piper

Behold the Pied Piper has tossed his pipe belatedly in the trash Having led folks down some garden paths he trousered wads of cash Dollars, pounds, euros, rolls of wallpaper - the currency didn’t matter He gathered countless cretins, enchanted by piffle and patter From sound suburban Ruislip to Henley-on-the-Thames This piper sprinkled magic dust and never made amends, His tunes were quite eccentric but they made the voters dance Cycling round the capital his prospects to advance Now the pipes have fallen silent (I wish this event came sooner) Though he tried many instruments, he never bought a tuner Cast-off from the orchestra, a wayward minstrel now unseated His lies have all been rumbled, and on radio repeated Considering his record, he enjoyed a lengthy stint, While friendly foreign editors found his comments fit-to-print The piper told his followers, “Pack your bags and let us roll It might be a path of brambles but we’ll be taking back control.” At last his pipes are broken, there are pieces in the bin, We count excuses and denials that with hindsight look so thin, People run-for-cover as they see their hero beaten Coping with defeat is not a subject taught at Eton.