Brexit

Now is the winter of our Brexit intent
Made glorious summer by this Lady called May;
And all the clouds that poured upon her house.

Now are our brows bound with doubts and misdeeds?
Our bruised egos hung up as monuments;
Our stern faces charged for many meetings,

Our protest marches delightfully ignored.
Grim-faces hath the cabinets endured;
To fright the souls with fearful adversaries,

But, am I not shaped for the EU’s tricks,
I, am rudely stamped on whatever I want
MP’s strut before a wanton decision less world.

That I am curtailed of this my fair vote,
Cheated of freedom by dissembling MP’s,
A realm deformed, unfinished, set before them.

Into this breathing world, scarce a mind made up,
That they are so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I take notice of them;

I have become weak in this piping time of peace,
I fear I have no delight to pass away the time,
They even spy upon my shadow in the sun

They care not for my own deformity
And therefore, I cannot love them anymore,
I could entertain this in those better days,

I am determined to prove they are villains
Seeking only their idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have they laid, inductions dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set brother against brother under our beloved Queen
In their hereditary hate the one against the other:

And if our MP’s could be as true and just
As they are subtle, false and treacherous,
These days of Brexit would be clear in my vision.

A prophecy, which says that those in high office
That fail the people of this divine country
Will be driven out of their false lives,

The people will endure to make good
These things the MP’s in their blundering thoughts
Have defiled with their ignorance of the people’s choice.

Ian T
(Adapted from a bit of Shakespeare)