ta ta

While BoJo mugs, this shit is getting real
and Brussels makes no move to ease Brits' plight.
The Parliament's prorogued without a deal
and Europeans tire of this fools' fight.
The Scots had voted sensibly to Stay
and like their odds as Kingdoms come Untied.
They know the Wealth of Nations grows through Trade,
and opportunities are scant, outside.
They're integrated in a larger world.
No need for civil war; no need to bleed.
They've never lost their flag; it's now unfurled.
And they'll take good queen Bess when they secede.
Three hundred years, one tuchas on two thrones.
Once more, they'll have a monarch of their own.

hapless

Another vote, another Boris flop;
he's got no mandate in this Parliament.
Perhaps we'll use his coiffure as the mop
to scour this ordure out of government.
The prospect for the future's looking dire;
investors hate the prospect of new walls.
But no one looks to Corbyn to inspire;
he can't capitalize as BoJo falls.
Eight hundred years, the Magna Carta's meant
that Whitehall must respond to common folk.
But David Cameron's fool-government
has promulgated this uncommon joke.
A shattered government in disarray
can't find a way to let the UK STAY.

parlous times

This latest antic in the BoJo show
might be a hoot if stakes were not so high.
He dared to ask his sov'reign to prorogue
without a guarantee that she'd comply.
Her Majesty signed off, they'll be on break
until October's run full half its course.
Scant opportunity to fix mistakes
as Britain's prospects sag from bad to worse.
Were Corbyn less unpopular by half,
this present Parliament would boot the clown.
But Corbyn as Prime Minister's a laugh;
the multi-party system's broken down.
Yanks dared the world to top Trump's flair to fail;
the British gamely answered "hold my ale".

comic relief

The fourth time Parliament rejects NoDeal,
Theresa won't be there to take the blame.
The Boris! Show's brief novelty appeal
is circling ever faster down the drain.
Now even Corbyn's climbed down off his fence
acknowledging most Britons want to STAY.
Ere long, he'll call a vote of Confidence
and Tories--with their fool--must slink away.
'Til then, banks' capital flees overseas;
investors mistrust Boris and his boys.
They're quite allergic to uncertainties,
dismissing Johnson's promises as noise.
Financiers fear this haystack-headed clown
could shrivel London to a rustic town.

puppetmaster

Beneath the haystack Bojo claims for hair
Bob Mercer sees a weak mind he can bend.
A FaceBook ad...a small donation...there!
His puppet heads a slate of better men.
The City's coffers lost a trillion pounds
on fears their banks won't serve the Continent.
A rash decision, made on shaky grounds
resolved outside the halls of Parliament.
Will Corbyn's Opposition seize the day?
Two years, he offered nothing to believe.
But now, he sorta thinks Brits ought to Stay--
at least until they vote again to Leave.
Bob Mercer's puppets dance to suit his whim
and never question what enriches him.

stupid woman

Theresa May's state barque has run aground.
So Tories get to find a better man.
But now, they're flirting with that BoJo clown;
the party manifestly has no plan.
It's time insurgents cast off the Old Guard
and find a steady hand to helm this boat.
A second referendum's in the cards,
but still, it's Parliament that gets to vote.
Bob Mercer still aspires to pull the strings,
while using others to conceal his hand.
His dalliance with May's a sterile fling;
deliv'ring nothing got her flatly canned.
The European Project's not dead yet.
But nothing in its future's firmly set.

dilatory

The Europeans gave Theresa May
six month to own the letter she had sent.
A bonus, supernumerary stay
to seize the reins of her own parliament.
Bob Mercer'd spent a wad in BREXIT's cause,
and Putin blandished Britons to believe
no sov'reign nation bows to Brussels' laws
when members took a hankering to LEAVE.
Entrepreneurs hate the uncertainty.
And bankers want to know what's gonna come.
they'll take their capital, and pack and flee;
increasingly, it's clear Theresa's dumb.
In desperation, some turn to the Queen
to save us from this frightful Halloween

fish or cut bait

The Europeans told Theresa May
at any time, she's welcome to retract
her BREXIT letter, but she can't delay
she's dithered far too long, it's time to act.
Bob Mercer spent a wad to engineer
the semblance of a nationalist surge.
And pensioners turned out to vote their fear
that Britons and the Muslim horde might merge.
But integration works for younger Brits
and bankers know it's cold for those outside.
They love to hit the slopes at St. Moritz,
and don't mean Brighton when they bask sea-side.
Kant's European Project wins a round
as BREXITEERs' pet project's going down

BREXIT, or not

Contraction's looming, Downing street concedes
on top of what these last two years have wrought.
Remorse came quick, as voters tote the fees;
John Bull is waxing wroth with what they've bought.
A second referendum'd vote to STAY
but sov'reignty belongs to Parliament
a stark rebuke'd befall Theresa May
were Corbyn competent at government.
Leviathan made Europeans strong;
to quit the Union's logically absurd.
But geriatrics vote, and voted wrong.
Kant's dream of lasting peace must be deferred.
Divided, their world-voice is cut by half;
such useful idiots make Putin laugh.

faux deal

May's BREXIT's only BREXIT in its name
her lot's been ducky in the status quo
when even Boris Johnson gets her game
it's manifest to all who aren't slow.
The Europeans hate the precedent;
to quit the Union must incur a cost!
If every tiff meant members up and went
their own ways, Kant's grand vision would be lost.
A world at peace, forever and a day
where lawyers settle grievances with words
when bombs, and and guns at last were thrown away
'cause war's as obsolete as it's absurd.
Let others pay  the price of endless war;
loud Nigel earned his fee as Putin's whore.

scared ya!

dame Thatcher waged crusade for the repeal
of benefits enshrined since Churchill's day
and voters raised on the English NewDeal
were dumb enough to vote large parts away
the rhetoric was "cut it down to size"
but Maggie's cronies got in and waxed fat
the assets that she loved to privatize
were stolen from the proletariate
now Boris wants to scrap National Health
and sever trade ties to the continent
his cronies hoped to multiply their wealth
but now their thatched-head hero may repent
$2trillion vanished overnight
financial markets don't deal well with fright

allegiances

the English proletariate's aggrieved
at policies set by the One Percent
and so they voted Britain ought to leave
and sever trade-ties to the Continent
but Scots are loathe to see liasons fade
they're Europeans no less than they're Brits
since Adam Smith, staunch champions of Trade
rewarding not just resources, but wits
United Kingdom's in for a rough ride
Leviathan's been taken down a peg
is this the wound that leaves the thrones untied
the body politic shorn of one leg
the centre cannot hold; thing fall apart
a great unravelling had petty start

retrograde

for Scots, the Brexit came as a surprise
that frayed their linkage to the continent
United Kingdom suddenly unties
as Edinburgh blows off parliament
three score and ten years Europe's mostly calm
and mutual destruction's just a threat
'cause everybody's got an Atom Bomb
and no one's mad enough to drop one (yet)
the centre cannot hold; things fall apart
as London bridles at the Brussels path
and Caledonians prepare to chart
new trade relationships with better math
and England might float free, 'though float alone
unshackled on her disunited throne