It’s a winter-torn end to a toryful year
and it could well get worse in the UK, we fear,
for amidst all the lights is a circle of woes,
which we can not ignore, as its shape looms and grows.
Well it’s my friend who’s hungry and it’s my friend who’s cold and it’s my friend who’s suffering because she is old, and it’s my friend who’s broken by caring too much, ’cause this hard right wing government is so out of touch.
Their policies rankle, but they’ll never care
for the people who live on this island we share,
Their philosophy teaches that we are to blame
for our own sorry loss in their terrible game.
So tonight as I hang up my Christmas tree star
I have only one wish which will traverse afar:
May the people who care for those under my tree
put a cross in the box of the Labour Party.
aplaceforpoetry 