Thursday, 15 October 2020

Liverpool Pathway

You gave your name to cruelty,

To slow and painful end of life,

No, not starvation, dehydration,

Call it anything instead.

And now you’re going to die yourself,

And death for you shall also be

A euphemistic type affair,

You’ll think of it as number three,

And being red, not being dead.

How fitting such an end might seem

To those who’d teach you not to dream

Of Socialism’s saving grace

But have you look square in the face

At honest trade or dodgy scheme,

Which lies and twists, and which pretends

It needs no magic money tree,

Yet milks its sap, for special friends. 

You loved authoritarian ways,

You sang the Red Flag, gave high praise

To those who wished to end the days

Of freedom lovers grown irate

At freedom squashing, crushing state.

So here’s a chance to bow before

Officialdom, which you adore.


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