Below is a Christmas Carol, written for the Daily Sceptic by Henry Goodall, that should be sung to the tune of ‘Good King Winceslas’.
Warm King Starmer just looked out,
On the feast of Reeves, then,
As the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even,
Brightly shone Westminster’s lights,
Though the cost was cruel,
When a pensioner came in sight
Gathering Winter Fuel…..
Hither, Plebs, and pay to me,
Tax you owe, I’m telling.
Yonder pensioner, who is he?
Which park bench his dwelling?
Reeves my name, we’re now in charge,
Thieves by nature, swelling,
Coffers spent by me again,
‘Zero’ projects selling.
Bring me all your tax and cash,
Bring me all your earnings,
We will keep all that we wish,
Four more years of yearning,
Thieves and Harmer, forth they went,
Trampling all together,
O’er the people’s strong lament,
And the bitter weather.
Plebs, the debt is higher now,
And the black hole deeper,
We need more, to fill the hole,
More free clothes, to keep her.
Mark my edicts, lowly plebs,
The Treasury acts boldly,
You will find the winter’s debts,
Freeze your blood more coldly.
In the PM’s steps she trod,
Allowances are stinted,
Pain and death from every word,
No more money printed,
Plebs and Farmers now unite,
Now’t to lose, depressing,
Taxed to death, you can be sure,
Only God gives blessing.
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