In these corrupted isles
criminals run the ship,
charlatans at the helm,
philanderers hoist the sails.
Amidst these choppy seas
they ride the crest of a fearsome wave,
rogue as the land they have flooded
with cronyism and deceit.
In these corrupted isles
the lighthouses no longer shine,
no beacon to the forlorn,
whose hopes shatter upon treacherous reefs.
Amidst the wreckages
they prey on the castaways,
who with nothing cry for help,
and send them back to sea.
In these corrupted isles
the BBC no longer reports their ills,
through oversight or will,
as colluders and donors dictate the press.
Amidst these crumbling cliffs
waves of apathy undermine
the shaky bedrock
of our eroding society.
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