Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the nation,
There was misery, poverty and great deprivation..
Some stockings were empty, some fridges were bare,
The heating turned off, little money to spare.
Boris Johnson was cosy, quaffing champagne,
Cognac and Port so he’s feeling no pain,
Stuffing his chops on goose flesh and gammon,
Caviar, Stilton and the finest smoked salmon.
The homeless are shivering in cardboard containers
Ex-Servicemen, youngsters, both Leave and Remainers
The nurses and doctors all still searching for beds
With a shortage of staff, of money and meds
The Mogg’s singing carols with moguls and bankers,
Hedge funders, financiers and various w*nkers
Admiring his baubles and pulling his crackers,
Rejoicing that he's got us all by the knackers.
Your Gran’s in the corridor, still on the trolley
While the Chancellor’s counting the last of his lolly,
And Grandad’s in pieces, stemming his tears
Though they’ve paid their dues these past sixty years
But hey, Gove’s on the sherry and is quite off his t*ts
While his missus is battered and doing the splits,
And Drunken Smith is singing along with the Pogues,
With the rest of the mob and a few Russian rogues
And the kids who are dreaming of gifts in the morning
Won’t get them- their benefits were stopped without warning..
While those who's dosh is in off-shore accounts
Will be rubbing their hands as the total mounts..
And the Waspi woman alone in her kitchen
Has long given up on Dancer and Blitzen
She was robbed of her pension, they don’t give a shite
That she’s freezing and hungry on Christmas Eve night..
There was misery, poverty and great deprivation..
Some stockings were empty, some fridges were bare,
The heating turned off, little money to spare.
Boris Johnson was cosy, quaffing champagne,
Cognac and Port so he’s feeling no pain,
Stuffing his chops on goose flesh and gammon,
Caviar, Stilton and the finest smoked salmon.
The homeless are shivering in cardboard containers
Ex-Servicemen, youngsters, both Leave and Remainers
The nurses and doctors all still searching for beds
With a shortage of staff, of money and meds
The Mogg’s singing carols with moguls and bankers,
Hedge funders, financiers and various w*nkers
Admiring his baubles and pulling his crackers,
Rejoicing that he's got us all by the knackers.
Your Gran’s in the corridor, still on the trolley
While the Chancellor’s counting the last of his lolly,
And Grandad’s in pieces, stemming his tears
Though they’ve paid their dues these past sixty years
But hey, Gove’s on the sherry and is quite off his t*ts
While his missus is battered and doing the splits,
And Drunken Smith is singing along with the Pogues,
With the rest of the mob and a few Russian rogues
And the kids who are dreaming of gifts in the morning
Won’t get them- their benefits were stopped without warning..
While those who's dosh is in off-shore accounts
Will be rubbing their hands as the total mounts..
And the Waspi woman alone in her kitchen
Has long given up on Dancer and Blitzen
She was robbed of her pension, they don’t give a shite
That she’s freezing and hungry on Christmas Eve night..
