In the dying of the light
All the dogs of Labour fight,
And the warring factions wait,
Each sequestered in its hate;
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from Gordon’s coward face;
People’s hopes and yearnings lie
Locked and frozen in his eye.
Follow, Guido, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unaffrighted voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
Monday, 20 April 2009
He Sings, He Sings
Nick Drew said...
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2 comments:
's funny.
I'm sure there were comments here yesterday.
Odd.
Somehow the comments are on the post before this one, 20.20. You are right, there are comments. After all ND's pomes attract them.
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