My vitriol and vile abuse is alright,
I’m a goody, I can’t stand deceit.
Who wouldn’t abuse H*tl*r, who’d be polite?
Don’t call me a hypocrite, let me bleat
About how hurt I am, that that fat cheat,
Johnson, had the temerity to utter the name, last night,
Of an old fashioned sweet.
My vitriol and vile abuse is alright
When faced with the sight
Of Tories why not repeat
All the insults one knows? This is a fight.
I’m a goody, I can’t stand deceit
And Johnson lies and won’t admit defeat,
He says he’ll carry out Brexit, he’s so far right,
And he means it, he’s so full of conceit.
Who wouldn’t abuse H*tl*r, who’d be polite
When faced with these Tory, leaver swine and their sh*te?
It’s our democratic duty to turn up the heat
And break the rules and violence incite.
Don’t call me a hypocrite, let me bleat,
It’s my bounden duty, right and meet
And taking offence is a ritual or rite,
A religious practice, like an outrage tweet
And am I outraged! and full of spite
And vile abuse.