He won’t like  the crap you shed

I am frightened I’ll run out of food
My   insides are in knots that feel glued
I  feel sick tonight
What was I ate?
The cat’s looking mad  yet amused

The Whiska’s beef ‘s  meant for the cat
I trod on him, he is now flat
I stole his dinner
I am a great sinner
I should eat  both the snake and the bat

This epidemic is my fault, you see
I gave away bat food for free
The homeless have soup
And suffer from croup
The rich  folk denounce liberty

A huge sense of guilt is conceit
In a sense it is also deceit
We’re not omnipotent
Nor are we impotent
We’re in the grey, be discreet

I wonder  what new world we’ll get
When Boris  in aspic is set
He’s having a  baby
It happens  now daily
It’s the mother who’s caught in his net

Fancy  a nappy change now?
Boris  is taking a bow
He won’t like  the crap you shed
When you are in his bed
Well, it’s far too late after the plough

I welcome comments and criticism

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