Brexit ain’t no easy exit
When it’s time to go.
E.U. tends to contract a bit
When you’ve gotta blow.
When the Big War’s guns grew silent,
Europe was a mess.
Then the Reds became a giant.
Living was all, “Guess.”
Next, their world-takeover started –
“Minds,” the goal, this time.
Folks were reality-parted –
“Where is the sublime?”
Sam, then, had to change his tactics;
Subtlety was rife.
Here, psychological back-kicks;
There, the drum and fife.
Once the Bear was de-clawed, toothless,
And the world could breathe,
Muslims, Jews, dispossessed Buddhists
Took a great, big heave.
Europe quickly got together;
Trade wise, otherwise.
Many’s better than one feather;
Stronger gals and guys.
England joined, with reservation;
One foot, channel-locked.
Kept the, “pound” in preservation;
Went not off half-cocked.
New European freedom wafted
Cross the Channel line.
Continentals Brits exhausted,
Coming cross the brine.
“They take jobs, now, without papers,”
Pouted so, the Brits.
“How it does give us the vapors –
“Hosting all those shits!”
“Why do they all come upon us,
“While we stay at home?
“Why are they content among us?
“What are we – still Rome?!”
Discontent began to boil up –
Half-hearted, at first.
Then, even the mighty World Cup
Failed to stem the burst.
So, they called a referendum
To salve British pride.
Naturally, the Queen remained mum,
By custom denied.
In the end, a royal shit-house
Did the polls produce?
Turns out that most, out loud, did grouse
“Gainst Euro-abuse.
The British Lion, like the dog
Who, when the chase stops,
Sheds the appetite of a hog –
Tires ain’t pork chops.
Brexit ain’t no easy exit
When it’s time to go.
E.U. tends to contract a bit
When you’ve gotta blow.
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