Death in a Ditch

A topical piece of political, polemic poetry. Lovers of the blonde bombshell may not approve. Hopefully someone will find it amusing.

Death in a Ditch

Please will some well-wishers tell me which

Direction to take to find the ditch

Where King Boris’s body may be finally found

Does he Remain far below or above the ground?

Did he Leave, in truth, any tangible trace

Of his humble humanity to the whole human race?

I have searched many miles, both high and low

As around old England’s streets I go

But am unable to perceive that pompous place

Where worshippers bewail his angelic face

And, please, inform me – O where, O where

Will I find golden locks of his handsome hair?

That I might a minor memento save

From our humongous hero’s gargantuan grave

So, when I’m deceased, to my children I will

Leave some Remains in their father’s will

By which to recall promises made by a man

Who would respect any party’s preposterous plan

He knew how to spend other peoples’ money

Though he might not consider my poetry funny

Let’s admit that he could have been remarkably rich

Had he not kept his promise to die in a ditch