Like a desert in some foreign place
The vast Sahara, Sinai, speculate
Britain burns to brown with stark embrace
People in hot tempers wince, grimace
Nasty feelings swiftly emanate
From their desert in a foreign place
The weather’s no affront to human taste
We are passive as we cogitate
Britain burns to brown in deep embrace
Let’s relax a little and not waste
The mind’s own symbols, fires that burn to make
A symbol of our wisdom, not disgrace.
The images in mind make love’s own lace
Soft and simple,bends but never breaks
Britain as it browns with sun’s embrace
Fighting over Brexit, love’s at stake
With an unkind madness we’re disgraced.
Like a desert in a hellish place
Britain burns to brown with fire’s embrace.
