For the many, not the few

How much of a plank do you have to be?
The greatest tank in history,
Don't you go waltzing Matilda with me.

Authoritative to pejorative,
your entire presence is derogatory.

The holding hands makes a lot more sense
in your illusionary majority.

Like a crisp packet in a microwave,
as soon as it's pressed you cave.

But the sparks died dismayed
from the mandate that you craved.

But sickly the red flag rose aloft,
A society surely lost to toff,
As Murdoch's rag and Dacre's cape

Laid him bare upon the block.
The guillotine of spite sent down
But weary of the crock

Of shame and lies, through bloodshot eyes
The rebellion ceased to mock.
And like a phoenix, rising, from the flames, despite

The Tory-lite recalcitrant flock.
True to a cause and to himself,
To save a nation at the behest of wealth,

For the many, not for the few,
For the NHS, the state and schools.
For the right to choose, not to be fooled.