Elon had a little sink And quite a lot of Twitter A Starlink and a skating rink And gold encrusted shitter I'd give it all up in a blink He said, and not be bitter If I had farts that didn't stink And tarts that didn't titter Elon did a lot of farts And most of them were smelly Distracting him from all the arts He liked to watch on telly And darts - he did like watching darts And reading Machiavelli While reaching down to touch the parts He hid beneath his belly Elon liked the ladies so And ladies liked his money He wished they wouldn't titter though At things that were not funny It's not the time for jokes you know He'd say, make like a bunny And - oh! - don't interrupt my flow Don't titter at me honey Elon had a massive head And doors he had to widen An IQ higher than, he said The tide that he was ridin' But when he snuggled in his bed He'd no-one to confide in Except his teddy, Little Ted And poster of Joe Biden Elon quite liked Donald Trump And Putin, or whoever Was popular that he could hump To make himself look clever And if they cut him off he'd dump Them instantly, forever And never let them kiss his rump Again. Or nearly never Elon had the notion that He was the true Messiah Jesus, he'd say, was a twat And my IQ is higher And I'm the King of Twitter, sat Above all that desire Me even though my head is fat And I may be a liar Elon. Onle. Leon. Nole - Who knows what you equate to You say you'll root out every troll But who knows what will fate do World domination is your goal And nothing less will sate you Beware behind the grassy knoll The ego that creates you © Gail Foster 28th October 2022
Nursery Rhyme
Boris Had A Little Do
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
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