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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1805726-Britannia
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by lloyd Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1805726
The not so Great Britain, i am sick of England and want out.
Winter's morning, cold and dark,
temperature gauge on the minus mark.
English weather, harsh and foul,
blistered hands from the use of a trowel.
Jobless louts sit by the fire,
leeching benefits and all they desire.
We buy their food and pay their rent.
We fix their teeth, our money spent.
They smash our shops, loot and run.
A century old business, this was your son.
England's honor, a joke to the world.
Rising taxes constantly unfurled,
insurance quotes, the price of oil,
government hands in for the spoil.

Immigrants arrive, demanding shelter.
English laws are helter-skelter.
Muslim people fill our schools
trying to bend the English rules.

We once ruled the world,
the kings of the sea.
A heritage lost,
where does this leave me?
© Copyright 2011 lloyd (kingsnake at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1805726-Britannia