Well, Well, Welby
Well, well, Welby
Beg your pardon
He’s got three Poles
At the bottom of his garden*
And joining in with daily prayers
Some Syrians beneath the stairs
Asylum seekers in his shed
And Communists
Beneath his bed
He’s just doing what he can
To pander to the ‘common’ man
To separate the issues, see
Of race and the economy
With good intent, to bridge the gap
‘Twixt logic and the racist cr*p
For Welby is a diplomat
Just in case, and just like that
It’s not that we’re a racist state
Good luck with that one, Welby, mate
Imagine pubs across the land
The dodgy banter, beer in hand
That Archbishop got it right
We’re all white mate, we’re all white
Share our wealth with all the planet?
Outrageous! (outraged Bob from Thanet)
But what of all the fish and bread
With which five thousand mouths were fed
Would Jesus Christ have found it hard
To put up Poles in his back yard?
by Gail
* a play on the words of the English joke "Well, well, well, three holes in the garden"
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016
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