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
