The May stood on the burning deck
Whence David Cameron had fled;
The bus o’lies that started all this dreck
A rusted heap long dead.
Yet strong and stable she stood,
To the EU she would not yield –
A creature of Oxford and the Bank of England,
Who’d rather run through a wheat field.
The flames rolled on – the UK would not go
Without having the last word;
Reality, faint in death below,
A voice no longer heard.
She called aloud: – ‘say, Michel Barnier, say
Two extra years until Brexit is done.’
She knew not that the world would end long before
Thanks to Trump and Kim Jong-un.
‘Speak, Michel!’ once again she cried,
‘If the UK may stick about!’
And but the booming shots replied,
And on the Irish border the barbed wire came out.
Upon her brow she felt the flames,
Closer, there’s no time to lose
To Florence then to give a sixth former’s speech
Then shop for some lovely shoes;
And shouted but once more aloud,
‘Michel Bernier! Can the UK temporarily stay?’
While o’er her fast, through sail and shroud,
Johnson and Gove made way.
Flames wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
May’s mood did not sour,
Economy ruined, UK’s reputation defiled
’Anything,’ she cried, ‘so that I will stay in power.
There came a burst of thunder-sound –
The May – oh! where was she?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–
That was the last that was seen of the May,
Would we now stay in the EU? –
Alas the truth no one wants to say
Is that Saint Jeremy hates it too.
With apologies to Felicia Dorothea Hemans