Thread by @mrhenrymorris

I had a go at some poetry for #nationalpoetryday2020. I've written it beneath Jacob's stunning interpretation of a man who has just seen verse for the first time.

This royal throne of kings, this Brexter’d isle
This dearth of majesty, this seat of cars,
This trucker Eden, lorry-paradise,
This fortress built that Serco, for itself,
May test infection and the range of R,
This happy breed of men, this little world,

This parking zone set in a silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a path
For unconcluded global deals of trade,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this SAGE, this England,
This stage for Grayling’s innovation,

Renowned here and all across the world,
Is now leased out - I’m high pronouncing it -
Like social housing or a ganja farm:
England, bound in with our triumphant glee
Whose aloofness beats back the migrants’ siege
And Brexit Rees-Mogg, now bound in with fame,

With blue passports and cocky missives sent;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made triumphant conquest of itself.
Ah, would that credit adhere to my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!"