ON THE PROMENADE
How did he feel on this dark dawn,
Waking early, crushed, forlorn,
The night behind him, with no sleep
With one appointment still to keep?
For vanquished souls, eager to flee
Cleethorpes was no place to be.
Flanked by soldiers, all decorated,
Stone faced he stood and grimly waited.
A page of Eton’s education
Missed from the handbook of the nation
How to spin this deep rejection
As revulsion rolled in his direction.
Overhead the fly-past growled
Help for Heroes patriots scowled
But he could see he was now hated
His Bullingdon youth, evaporated.
From the shaven headed, tattooed crowd
The cry of ‘Traitor’ rang out loud
For one fleeting moment I could see
For once he deserved sympathy
But he’ll survive and take the ermine
Because he’s one of Bevin’s ‘vermin’
The Neanderthal horde continued hissing
It was quite clear who they were missing.
In place of that man standing there
Would they have cheered for Tommy Mair?
As to our dark future we all grope,
Where fear and hatred replace hope.