We’re on the cusp of an election

Have you seen the selection?

A Hobson’s choice with no direction

Oh God grant us all protection

From this witless mal collection

With whom we have no real connection

 

As they fixate on their polls

Lowering taxes are the goals

Watch all parties swapping roles

“Is Irish Water filling holes?”

“No deaths on trolleys” state the moles

Watch us mind our older souls

 

As we prime ourselves to vote

They know their policies by rote

Then pull the bridge up on the moat,

And kiss your baby “she’s a dote”

But bet your future on the tote

“The other lots’ fault”, the only quote.

 

Wander down your vote to cast

Then the country has a blast

But the promises won’t last

(They back the truck up very fast)

“Don’t forget what’s done is past”

(The self delusion’s rather vast)

 

What we take from a ballot box

Puts our country on the rocks

Run by preening Bantam Cocks

And a leader who mocks

The poor voter whom he locks

In this cycle of fiscal knocks