radical

One time he came among us,

We the expresso folk,

Clad in his shroud of culture,

Pride, dignity his yoke.

He moved just like a self styled king,

Amongst his self style serfs,

Sounding his oxford Cambridge vowels,

And speaking toff nosed F’s.

His hairless face, stiff upper lip,

To us it seemed to say,

“How jolly good of me to come,

Thou I haven’t come to stay”.

A socialist is what I am,

I’ll have you all to know,

Just let me do my workers act,