It wasn’t a peripeteia
No, nothing sudden at all
Like a dust cloud on the horizon
His name was on the wall
But still the significant moment
When facing camera hound
Johnson kissed the job good-bye
He’d run himself to ground
Then came bullish leaning on the buckram book
When disgrace’ed premier person swung his jabbing hook
Who could bear to listen to all the spouting steam
Only those who had to be there to witness Johnson’s final dream
Of how he led the nation
Of how he brought us through
You’d think he was a demi-god
Instead of you know who
“Of course we are confident!”
Was given at the count
By all the swarming Martians
Who landed from without
There they go a-dawdling
Down hackneyed corridor
Plotting ‘gainst the next one
To go through Downing’s Door
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