Britishush Noncensus

William Bullin turns to poetry

Jobs aren’t easy to find Cuts are on everyone’s mind But the government thinks we are blind ’Cause people in Britain don’t count.

 

I’m a patriot but someone’s a traitor
They’ve signed up a US arms trader
To gather and process my data.
Now where’s the census in that?
 
They say I must fill in my form
For the firm that makes the big bomb
To me it’s terribly wrong
That my data belongs to America.
 
If I don’t they will give me a fine
Or send me to jail to do time
But it’s them that’s committing the crime.
So where’s the justice in that?
 
I live in a town by the sea
So I’m writing to my Hastings MP
Though I doubt she will listen to me,
Tell me, where’s the consensus in that?
 
Have the British people no shame
Or are we so docile and tame
That we play along with their game
And bow to Big Brother again?
 
Have the British people no pride
So pathetic and unqualified
That we’re counted by those from outside?
Winston must turn in his grave.
 
Should I fill it and not turn a hair?
Should I burn it, or bin it, or tear?
Should I camp in the public square?
Or post it and moan and sup tea?
 
Tell me, who is the British traitor?
Who the impersonator?
Tell me, who is the abdicator?
Is it Cameron or Blair or a Quaker?

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Comments

William, I am posting mine back, unopened. I suggest you do likewise

By miriam on 24th March 2011 - 14:05

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I live at home with my dad He’s a Vicar he’s not all that bad I gave the Yanks my data If I write more you’ll need a big cheese grater Are they really that interested in me I don’t think so I’m not down on one Knee I’m no traitor or alligator So please don’t be my berater

By jmcatling on 27th March 2011 - 18:33

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