THE NEW YEAR IS UPON US, FOLKS! (weekly poem)

 THE NEW YEAR IS UPON US, FOLKS!         

The New Year is upon us, folks,

With promises anew,

From so-called leaders everywhere,

The usual motley crew;

That pledge us all the usual things,

That never turn out true!

The Pope will for the umpteenth time

Pray for world peace once more,

Yet we all know with certainty,

That there will still be war;

Because we've got our heads screwed on,

And fully know the score!

The Charities will beg for cash,

To end all want and strife,

But we are fully conscious that,

There'll be no change in life;

And that, of course, starvation will,

Continue to be rife.

The US President will boast,

And carry on the farce,

Of talking cobblers everyday,

And trumping out his arse;

Whilst aided and abetted by,

The Yankee working-class.

Our P.M. (if it's Mrs May!)

Will lie and no doubt say,

That Brexit, deal or otherwise,

Will herald a new day;

But we all know our problems won't,

Just simply fade away.

We could, of course, resort to faith,

And Jesus's return,

Or beg Ann Widdecombe, “Come back”,

To waffle and to gurn;

Or else we could think for ourselves,

Before we start to burn.

© Richard Layton