The Grand old Duke of Squawk

The Grand old Duke of Squawk, he entertained the men
He boozed and he smoked and he cracked some jokes
To become the ‘People’s Friend’

And when he was crap, he was crap
And when he was good he was fake
But the gullible swallowed every scrap
Of spin that Nigel spake

The High Falutin Sport, he’s counting on his quirks
He charms and he smarms like he means no harm
But his army is berserk

For, when you are glad to be had
And when you can’t think for yourself
Well, then you won’t see you’re a launching pad
For someone else’s stealth

The Hand of Corp’rate Things, he has a hundred plans
From the downright strange to a pale exchange
He’s a simple complex man

But where there is rope there is hope
As his content has yet to be grilled
If the foot in his privates’ mouths won’t choke
His proposals surely will

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