Behind The Black Door.
As Tess’s tenure at Number 1O comes to a close
It’s ta-ta to our failed frazzled fading English rose,
Slowly down Downing Streets steps she grudgingly goes,
Then up steps blow-hard Boris, striking his grinning pose.
After passing ‘neath Boris’s victorious sneer
Tess turns, takes a look back shedding ‘nary a tear,
Theresa suppresses the smile that strives to appear;
One grateful Briton, glad to be gettin’ the hell outta here.
Outside the door where she’d once stood, stammering,
Boris is the boy for whom all the Brexiteers are clamouring;
Tess knows after six months of political Sturm Und Drangering
Boris will be beside himself, behind the door, getting a hammering.