And when it’s all over
                        (By Christmas) find
                        Some smooth poet to
                        Chant an In Memoriam
                        At fifty quid a line,
                        Re-arrange the past
                        (Johnson moved swiftly)
                        Invoke Dunkirk Spirit
                        (Slo-mo footage of crowds
                        All masked) morph
                        Surmise into facts,
                        Montage rainbows
                        (Avoid corruption)
                        Doorstep clapping
                        (Don’t mention useless PPE)
                        End with happy children playing:
                        Fade out on Our Own Dear Queen.




Kevin Patrick McCann

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