I contemplated emigrating
or moving out of town
I’d spend my weekends walking dogs
my weekdays knuckling down
My grandmother was Scottish and
my great-grandma a Jew
And while some borders still stay down
perhaps they’ll let me through
Or I could hump my tucker bag
and pitch up in Australia
(Though on that points-based entry test
I’d probably score a failure)
But everywhere that I could go
has troubles of its own
And even in another place
I won’t find peace alone
For nowhere gives respite from grief
however much you want some
‘Cause they have Morrisons and Trumps
as we have Boris Johnson
And scanning through the options as
I surf on my computer
Even Scotland has the blight
of Brian bloody Souter
And even if I plug my ears
and wrap my head in cloth
Yet still the vines will grow around
that sprout the grapes of wrath
However loud the seagulls shriek
or waves crash on the beach
However desolate the hills
the battle cry will reach
My heart and make me dust me down
and look me in the eye:
My daemon settled long ago –
I’m red until I die
So I will stand my ground and stay
through plenty and through drought
I’ll see you on the picket line –
let’s kick the Tories out!
