The sunrise and the odour of men’s feet?

Will Theresa May be merrier  next year?
Will Boris Johnson  super dye his hair?
Will British people stop their hateful strife
As Brexit has struck fear into our hearts?

Why can we not enjoy the pleasures sweet
The sunrise and the odour of men’s feet?
The  dirty laundry blinds us with its white
And all my poems are  called a  load of tripe.

Can we not enjoy the polyester shirts
Of men who sweated copiously a-flirt
The nylon sheets will roll us out of bed
They can be washed by water in a flood

Will Charles become our King and rule us well
Will Princess Di rise up and give him hell?