Festive Ditty

A Christmas ditty .

Festive wishes for a very Happy General Election for the Many, not the Few.

Think Left wish everyone a very Happy Christmas with a Labour Government, and a Happy and Hopeful New Year.

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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.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

Boris Johnson was cosy, a-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.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

The homeless are shivering in cardboard containers,
Ex-Servicemen, youngsters, both Leave and Remainers.
The nurses and doctors all searching for beds,
With a shortage of staff, of money and meds.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

The Mogg’s singing carols with moguls and bankers,
Hedge funders, financiers and various wankers
Admiring his baubles and pulling his crackers,
Rejoicing that he’s got us all by the knackers.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

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.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

But hey, Gove’s on the sherry and is quite off his tits,
While his missus is battered and doing the splits
And Drunken Smith is a-singing along with the Pogues,
With the rest of the mob and a few Russian rogues.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

And the kids who are dreaming of gifts in the morning
Won’t get them; their benefits were stopped without warning,
While those whose dosh is in off-shore accounts
Will be rubbing their hands as the total mounts.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

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.

πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„πŸŽ„

And now, here’s the end of my last festive story.
Don’t forget to vote! βœ–οΈ unless you’re a Tory!

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

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