|
| |
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.
Copyright ©
John Davison
|
|