Like the best of Nonsense stories
Where the turns are convoluted
And the twisted spins bewildering
Leaves the Common-Sense polluted
Power games are played in secret
In pudding lanes, they slice up cakes
Stocking up in piles of just-in-case
Too many sinkholes steal the breaks
Super spaces on the market shelf
A sudden blush of one last chance
Cap in hand to beg for any deals
And while we’re at it have a dance
Britain desperate for olden days
The empire state when life was great
When all abroad was full of foreigners
Those lovely wars that sealed our fate
For we are us and have no other needs
We bar our independent gate
All the world will look admiringly
To be best pals with Super-Mate
We’ll dump the club that dug us out
Discarding once best friends as dross
Irrespective of our lack of cash
We’ll show the other lot who’s boss
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