Boris had a little do
With biscuits and with cheese
As little bits of blossom blew
Upon the British breeze
It was against the rules but hey
As if he gave a toss
It was a warm and sunny day
And Boris was the boss

Be sure your sins will find you out
And somebody did tell
And everyone began to shout
'What is that horrid smell?'
'It's Boris Johnson's lucky pants
He coughed and followed through!'
And suddenly the sycophants
(Except for one or two

Or three or four or five or six)
Did hail a passing bus
And chucked him under it. Mud sticks
And no-one wants a fuss
'Alas poor Boris. Knew him well
But didn't want to be
Associated with the smell'
They said. 'It wasn't me!'

Said Boris, bleating like a lamb
His back against the wall 
'I'll go get Jonathan Van Tam
And he'll explain it all'
But silence was the stern reply
Expedience the crack
And so the shit began to fly
And Boris got the sack 

Or did he? Will he? Won't he? What? 
His fleece is white as snow
And even though he's lost the plot
There's still the book to go
'It wasn't me!' he said. But there
Was no-one left to hear
He ran his fingers through his hair
And poured another beer

And waited for the storm to pass
Which only took a while
For being of a certain class
And of a certain style
The shit slid off him easily
So shiny was his skin
And sure enough and sleazily
He slipped his way back in

And had another little do
With biscuits and with cheese
And laughter on the breezes blew
All through the London trees
And all was well for Boris, hey
For no-one gave a toss
It was a warm and sunny day
And Boris was the boss

© Gail Foster 11th January 2022