I would like to execute an expletive
if only it could reach those I want to impeach
those I implore their hands no more
should wander in coffers and do squander
the wealth of the poor who they hold in no store
they by the right of the vote, see the greenlight to dote
love and attention on second cottage for their old age
through extension of the duty by which they have inattention
they work their way through their surgery with great urgency
making sure that they diddle lots while Nero plays the fiddle
the city of London burns, and it is of none their sh*tty concerns
the crisis is but the icing on the cake which they give pleasing
the electorate with promise of you never had it so good lies
now they deserve to dangle by a swear word or two, leave
this poem, on the floormat, light it, and let them feel the odium
of the populace by which they did wrong, and which they must face
soon, deselect their consciences and let them now correct
the expense democracy has borne, a shame for their idiocy.
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