Cometh the Hour

Face is red, hair product is blue,

They voted for him, what can you do?

Seemed a nice guy, game for a laugh

Bouncing about, playing wiff waff

Then came power, he started to change

Like an old dog spotted with mange

First he got sick, his policies sicker

Ministers angry, started to bicker

A chancellor gone, what was his name?

The mean streets of Bristol his claim to fame

Somewhere near Woodstock a real statesman spins

While an ersatz Churchill guffaws and grins

The crisis he yearned for here at last

Posturing nightly should be a blast

But though he really has news for you

It’s not going like he thought it would do

Someone to follow, someone to lead

Not posture and pose, a comedy feed

And while bumble and bluster amuse for a while

Covid-19 doesn’t flee at a smile

So cometh the hour, cometh the man

Let’s hope he arrives as soon as he can.

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