The Night Before Chilcot (A Poem for the Children)

Twas the night before Chilcot, when all through the nation
The people were pondering the Iraq abomination
Our hopes were all pinned to a gallows in London
Our desire was that Chilcot would damn, with abundance!

Tony was snuggled in a plush feather bed
While roast children’s skeletons danced and japed through his head
His family were weeping, and Tony morose
As his cunning gears rationalized the lies that he’d told

He gaped, as though dawn had come, with merciless fury
He could already perceive the grim jaws of the jury
“Pray George, take me away! I deserve not to die!
But that Damocles rope! O, pray choke not mine eyes!”

The murderer’s dreams of a Brave Global Village
Were a blessed invitation to loot and to pillage
“Wonder not wildly your cowardice I feared,
When these dwarf-life mediocrities wished harm on your Blair!”

This dusty old document, from a juridical con
You’ll know not to listen to the lies of old John!
“More pedantic than Arabs, his foul declamations
You may bray, you may bark, but I’m the God of this nation!”

O Pacifists! O, Pinkos! O, Tories and Marxists!
Fie, Arabs! Fie, Muslims! Fie, you uncivilized terrorists!
I’m at the top of my game! And I never shall fall
Now bow the knee, vermin! Tony’s Saviour of all!

The junk leaves which whirl before popular madness
Must now be an obstacle? Pure malice and badness!
So commit to the ovens these tissues of lies
I’ve got my swag: Knight Sir Tony, arise!

But now, hark, O misery! I hear on the telly,
The maniacal howling of plebs of slow belly,
I sketch in my head more great schemes for this world
Down, aged tyrants, I’m Sovereign! Tony declares you a turd!

Now they dress all in repugnant desert Keffiyeh
And dark is the heart of the barbarians of Syria
A barrel of bombs Sambo bears on his back,
The natives? Revolting! Hence, they must be rolled back!

Their eyes – how they grimace! Their faces, so ruddy!
Their thundercloud eyebrows, dread physiognomy bloody!
These vile little monkeys, O crass pigs they be!
But I’m your white Emperor… Some are slow to perceive!

The stump of a widow I’ve concealed in my wallet
The smoke of dead infants I inhale (blessed swallow!)
My aged hairs are grey, and trim is my belly
Yet I twitch and I quiver, like a soul cast down to hellfire!

I have cash in abundance, and much cause for gaiety
Tony laughs to consider how plebs somehow don’t rate me!
Now wink, little kiddy, and acknowledge our secret
You’ve nothing to fear: Tony’s promise is sacred…

Now speak not a word, but believe in your Daddy
I’ll make your whole nation a black gold Irrawaddy
So lay down your swords and surrender the fight,
And I’ll be your watchman, keen observe through the night!


I sprang to the curtains, perhaps I dozed after all.
Tony greeted the day, but no songbirds did call.
With horror I heard God’s throne tremble in fury:
“Sink with horror, kneel, miscreant! By next July you’ll be buried!”

We rise on my knees and We offer a plea
“This world is not worthy of a Guardian angel like me!”
But by now, Heaven’s silent. I weep with despair.
I scream for God’s mercy. But now no-one is there.

We just can’t believe I’m abandoned forever.
Avowed intentions? So pure…


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