By Kit + Cy

Hold on to your Fallopians
Prime Minister is my name and I’ve arrived
So many phillies, so little time
The pleasure is all mine

My name is Boris
So it rhymes with clitoris
The queen guffaws
You silly arse! How do you do it?

Well, in northern coastal towns
I won the rank and file over
Stood in bars, favourite tipple in hand
They were fat pigs in clover

It’s all they want to hear
Like Churchill, I tell it like it is
Brexit? What’s Brexit?
Crisis? What crisis?

In the morning
Your highness
You will wake
With King Boris

         
“We are interested in themes and ideas. Primarily, we are rejected poets without readers within an environmental dystopian reality.” – the poets