Politty politty politty politics!
Politty politics! Donkey hind legs!
Beat round the bush with a bundle of fiddlesticks,
blue in the face with our chickens and eggs!

“You're not going to catch me with questions like that.”
“The people want labour. We're going on strike.”
“I'd rather not answer. I'd much rather chat
about new manifestos the voters will like.”

“The tax-payer grieves at the plummeting pound.”
Rhubarb and rabbit! Codswallop and tosh!
“Parliament Square is where statesmen are found.”
Nonsense, trash, tommyrot, twaddle and bosh!

Politty politics, talkative politics.
“Blame the Prime Minster. Things are not fair.”
Ill-chosen cabinets only a wally picks.
Cabinets empty and cupboards are bare.

“Let's throw a party - a bloody great beano!
Invite all the workers whose collars are blue!”
Blue is the colour and red is the vino
and gate-crashing loonies have done up the do!

Blame the P.M., the P.M. blames the press,
read throughout Britain and red in the face.
Stress-ridden editor alters the stress,
saving disgrace in the loftier place.

Neverhtless we cry, “Long live Democracy!”
(Poverty-moralists voting for bums.
The wealthy minority, dumb aristocracy
don't hear the wisdom that comes from the slums.)

Political systems. Why do we ignore them?
Because it is best to continue in doubt.
Government of them and by them and for them:
the Gettysburg nonsense we can't do without.