The Jabbermay. (With profound and sincere apologies to Lewis Carroll.)
Twas brillig and the slithy Gove
Did fawn and fondle with the Trump
All mimsy were the Tory droves
(But David Davis got the hump).
Beware the Jabbermay, my son!
The pants that shine, the heels that purr
Beware that Doctor Fox, and shun
The furious Andrea.
“Seven days! Seven days!” he heard a wailing
And turned to smite the sickening Hunt
But his bike was toppled by the Grayling
And he fell to earth with a startled grunt.
And, as he lay there in a daze,
The Jabbermay, in Vera Wang
Came clicking through the Brexit haze
And incoherently she sang,
“Thou canst not fell the Jabbermay!
I scoff at ye, O Labour squabblers!
The Trump and I will now make hay
While you spout internecine cobblers.”