Ode to King Boris

Another topical poem. References to Boris Godunov – who supposedly murdered to gain the throne of Russia – and to Ode to Napoleon by Byron, on which the poem’s structure is loosely based.

Ode to King Boris


‘Tis done – the Bill has passed at last

And Parliament now dissolved

Your colours fixed to the Conservative mast

Though your sins still not absolved

Sycophants in the Street of Downing

Where you made your home just after crowning

Intensely are involved!

But gloom beyond the greyest glooms

Has descended on those dreary rooms



For someone has been the source of leaks

Pressmen and women have seen the report

Within the last few days or weeks

Though secret silence had been sought

And all including your most trusted adviser

May well assure that they are none the wiser

But the traitor must be caught!

The foreign media for blood are baying

 And now the noblest nerves are fraying



A mere month before the early election

Supposed were you to be free of blame

Your reputation in need of protection

Newspapers continue to tarnish your name

So could a preposterous plan be hatched

That might by tyrant Trump be matched?

You know how to play the game!

An unnamed source must invent some stories

About heroic deeds only done by Tories



Remembrance Sunday – the ideal stage

When patriotism is no vain word

Where one can talk with Churchillian rage

And hostile facts would seem absurd

You could thus avoid any difficult question

And might even rebuff the slightest suggestion

You know well how to polish a turd!

The media would be part of the plan

To pay tribute to an unknown man



But when came the ceremonious day

All eyes were on the screen

The votes of millions and millions in play

No detractors could be seen

The cameras upon your person dwelled

As the wreath the wrong way up you held

Your state of dress a ghastly scene

Broadcasters rushed to save your blushes

Like gamblers playing their busted flushes



Now they are the ones accused of cheating

As you divert the nation’s attention

By destruction of opposition bleating

Vilification means voter retention

Go north to the floods to be seen a good neighbour

And cast doubt upon all plans of Labour

Promise never to request an extension!

Billions into the air can be tossed

For if you get no majority all is lost



So on to Fishlake fast you headed

Time only just to take in a mop

Your presence late but surely needed

Hoping for your hair the rain would stop

Did not the people your visit treasure

Or were there words of vague displeasure?

Your career has now reached its top!

Go back and grease that dancing pole

Lest your putrid past condemn your soul!



Let the Chancellor create your bulging budget

Let him find that magic money tree

He has experience, he knows how to fudge it

And no longer needs to earn a fee

The manifesto will be last minute

All detail vague, or lost within it

Your supporters will shout with glee!

Then leave discreetly by the servants’ exit

Onwards and upwards, let’s be done with Brexit!