The Judge RANTS!
A Patriotic Hymn
"Let us, with a Leadsom mind,
Smear the Beeb and all its kind.
For our power will last long,
Ever stable, ever strong.
Let us piss them off abroad,
Our dosh is in havens stored.
We, with all our blathering shite,
Have screwed the poor with all our might.
And we have, with smirking eye,
Shat upon their misery.
And - with the fœtid Mail and Sun -
Compared good people to The Hun.
Although our team is far from bright,
We'll triumph, for our cause is Right.
All things creeping we shall feed
(So long as they're of Bulldog Breed).
So let us, with a Leadsom mind,
Blame all others for our bind."
(Oh, Milton, thou shouldst be living at this hour!)