Santa and London4Europe would like to wish a Merry Christmas to all our readers.....
‘Twas the night before Brexit, when all thro' the land
Not a lorry was stirring, not even a van
The Leavers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of unicorns danced in their heads
Treaties were hung by the chimney to sign
Knowing EU concessions would make it just fine
When on sunlit uplands arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to their windows they flew like a flash,
Tore open their shutters, and threw up the sash.
Saw the moon on the breast of the crestfallen May
Lying flat in the snow alongside her sleigh
And what do their wide eyes also behold
Eight cabinetmakers in open revolt
With no little old driver, lively and quick,
The sleigh was marooned, lying prone in the ditch
Like leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
She encountered resistance that knocked her awry.
As rapid as eagles the quitters did dash
Though she whistled, and shouted, and bribed them with cash
“Now! Arlene now! Liam now! Leadsom and Raaby,
On! Baker, on! BoJo on! Govey and Moggy!”
“Donner and Blitzen, where are you this day?”
Poor May’s so confused she’s in the wrong play.
BoJo had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
“I swing both ways, and I speak fluent Latin.”
“Ipsissima verba, I learned that at Eton.”
Said May: “To the roofs! To the top of the steeple!
"Please let’s dash away! Dash. It’s the Will of the People”
But shrill from the house-tops the quitters opined
“Your deal’s no appeal, we’d rather resign”
“But my sleigh’s full of backstops,” proclaimed the Maybot.
“Who will deliver if I’m stuck on me tod?”
Then from the cliff edge came bells, whistles and din
The Remainers were marching to try to stay IN
And seeing May in a helluva plight
They offered their help - as good people might.
“Let us manage your backstops, hassles and plot
For a People’s Vote, we’ll chuck out the lot.”
“I’ll fight them,” said Baker. “I’m that type of man”
“Though it’s our own stupid fault for having no plan.”
“What of my Trade Deals?” asked the cunning old Fox.
“What of them,” they countered. “Put them back in the box”.
“Oh take charge if you must,” Theresa conceded.
“I knew all along it was what we all needed.”
“I tried to hold fast, but ‘twas clearly just phooey.
The only real convert was gullible Hoey."
Remainers’ eyes twinkled! Their dimples: how merry,
Their cheeks were like roses, their noses like cherries.
Finding the ditch where May came a cropper
They dragged out the sleigh, and righted it proper
They binned all the backstops - it seemed only right
And filled it with presents so people unite.
New driver St Nick is in heavy disguise.
If you know his real name, you are up for a prize.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan,
And fill'd all the stockings across the whole land
The Irish Sea crossing proved oh so easy
And Dover-Calais too - despite feeling queasy
But did I hear him exclaim, as he drove out of sight?
“Happy Brexit to all, and to all a good night!”
Andy Pye, Dec 2018