We once had a leader called Johnson
Who wanted to get hold of his pension
As he had used all our money
To beguile Mistress Sunny
Alas, it gained media attention
Then he wanted to pay for a nanny
A child came from the womb of sweet Sunny
He asked Tories to give
Him money to live
Is there no end, is this funny?
He claims to need £300,000
As a salary, please do not question
He buys handmade shoes
Who can refuse
This blonde beaming bounny’s directions?
Is there some malice aforethought
Some intelligence agents new-bought?
He can speak in Latin
And tell us who’s batting
But he’s rarely been seen here in Scunthorpe
Why not take early retirement
Then be a real full time parent
Little Wilf will adore him
Except when he’s snoring
Or trying to recollect all his gerunds
Will he be described as a tyrant
Or the man who put Nero’s fire out?
Or a witless buffoon
Without any tune
Oh, people do shout at his iPants