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oppositional poetry, prose, polemic


Kevin Saving
Gordon Brown
(To be sung to the tune of The Stranglers' 'Golden Brown')
Gordon Brown eyed-up The Prize,
now he's found it's not his size.
Labour's dead-beats
losing their seats,
giving up ground through Gordon Brown.
Gordon Brown taxes the poor
(when they're down) ten percent more.
Our ancient rights
sold over-night,
he's gone to town, our Gordon Brown.
Gordon Brown, when interviewed,
looks and sounds like he's chewing food.
Not voted-in.
Nothing but "spin".
History's clown - THAT'S Gordon Brown.
Kevin Saving © 2008