A Poem

[NormanH]

Anglican Graffiti

Superest plebs pessima

Oh to be in England now 

That Brexit’s at its height. 

England’s green and pleasant land

Is covered up with shite. 

But have you seen them at first-hand

The sad clods who were born there?

Cottages of Cotswold stone,

Chocolate-boxy thatch;

Tea Shoppe on the Village green,

There’s a Cricket Match.

Only one thing spoils the scene--

The smug fools who were born there.

She’s in the Mothers’ Union,

He sits on the bench,

Both are pillars of the Church--

To leave would be a wrench.

So they eke their lives away, 

The dullards who were born there

Granddad's in the cemetery,

Granny in a Home,

Never ventured far away--

Nowhere else to roam.

“Born and bred here, here we stay”

Grunt the in-breds who were born there.

Dog Turds are more claggy

in Arsetown round the Bend.

Boys more spotty, girls more saggy;

Boredom without end.

But everything is better here 

Believe the half-wits who were born there.

Foreigners not wanted, 

“They’ll take away our jobs”

Yet the plumber is from Poland--

“Can’t trust the local slobs, 

They’d rip you off or not turn up” 

The ‘tradesmen’ who were born there.

The Doctor is Romanian,

The midwife’s face is black,

But then the village voted

To send all of them back--

Without a thought of how they’ll cope 

With just the idiots who were born there.

[YCCMB]

Whoever wrote that needs to clarify whether being "born there" colours all of us similarly. Or does "born there" get trumped by "moved away"?

[richard51]

A good description of brexiteer types in each verse. Thanks Norm.

[NormanH]

YCCMB will no doubt have noted the debt to Brassens..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WscVYSu-O2w

[YCCMB]

The Brassens song is, IMO, a lot better. It also contains a line which has amused me for a long while and which I wish translated elegantly:

Et, petit à petit, les voilà qui se montent

Le cou jusqu'à penser que le crottin fait par

Leurs chevaux, même en bois, rend jaloux tout le monde.