Though the country itself is quite tiny
The people who live there think not;
Well, they believe they are bigger than others
Even though we all know this is rot.
Now Engerland once was all feudal
With royalty, lords and the rich
Ruling over the peasants and poorest
Which the people all thought was a bitch.
Then the day came when people stopped voting
‘There’s no difference between them’, they said.
They line their own pockets with riches
And become neo-gentry instead.
Along came the time for elections.
‘Vote for us’, said the gentry again,
And their pals in the meeja joined with them
Till it became but a single refrain.
‘There’s still nothing to choose from’ repeated,
But, lo, did a green shoot arrive
That truly worked for the people
Upsetting the gentry’s ‘highfive’.
Policies Greens offered people, were
All the things we wanted and more
‘If we voted Green’ said some voters
‘We could show the gentry the door’.
The end of this story’s unwritten.
The poor haven’t voted as yet
So we don’t know who wins and who loses
Or how England’s sail will be set.
One thing is for sure and for certain.
If we want to get ‘new’ gentry’s goat,
There’s no other choice in the matter!
We will have to get out there and VOTE!