MUSICAL CHAIRS
The aftermath of the British General Election, May 7th, 2015.
Why do the voters never learn,
And vote for yesterday’s flawed men?
And like the Lemming, oft repeat,
The same old darn mistakes again?
Why do the voters take part in,
This cycle of futility?
Is it because they are hell-bent,
On five years of humility?
Why should our politicians be,
A panacea for all ills?
With their economy of truth,
And never-ending Commons Bills?
What politician can be named,
Who’s rid our world of all its poor?
What government in history,
Can claim to have abolished war?
When full employment is around,
The Chancellor basks in the glow;
But when recession looms its head,
He really doesn’t want to know.
Such failure never is their fault,
Although they tell us frequently;
That they’re the ones in full control,
Of the UK economy.
The Ancient Greeks said ‘Politics’,
Was the Black Art where one invents;
All kinds of lies and gibberish,
Pretending to control events.
It’s like the other Party game,
The one with music and odd chairs;
At least in that game players win,
But voters always lose in theirs.
© Richard Layton
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