Independence Day

It’s June, it’s Independence Day,

The turkey bastes itself at will –

This most unholy Hogmanay

Is celebrated, voices shrill:

When those they raised in different shores

Were ushered back without applause.

 

It’s Independence Day. We lift

Our tankards to the British style:

To welcome others with the gift

Of sanctimony, spit and bile;

When visitors receive our rancour

If they don’t share our lingua franca.

 

Today we all commemorate

A mean and peevish state of mind,

The founding of our parlous state

By leaving principles behind –

The day we turned our pockmarked face

Against the foreigner’s embrace.

 

On Independence Day we strain

To hear our founder-father’s phrase,

As liberal, generous, humane,

We carry on our separate ways –

We cheer our fine and mighty species

And treat the rest like canine faeces.

 

It’s June the 23rd: we’re free

To be ourselves, as happy gluttons,

To gaze, and self-indulgently,

Upon our monstrous belly buttons;

To choose our laws, to cherry pick

The rules that suit the very thick.

 

These thoughts we have while in the mood

To raise a toast: “Our Great Divorce” –

To know we’re English, rough and rude,

But following our perfect course,

Passing the towers, squat and mean,

By the border-posts at Gretna Green.

 

 

 

 

 

 

June 23 2016

Nigel Farage suggested we make June 23rd ‘Independence Day’; Michael Gove praised our values as liberal, generous and humane.


POETRY KIT WEBRING

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