Whenever Maggie was on the box,

I was never very placid,

As I caught a glimpse of Madam Fox

Coming the old acid!

Her eyelids moved and a glycerine tear,

Travelled down her face.

She was trying to give an impression,

That she belonged to the human race!

For could Maggie sway with emotion?

Could she be moved to tears?

It was an unfamiliar notion,

That her P.R. put over, for years!

Did our former Prime Minister,

Have a genuine love for mankind?

Or was there something more sinister,

In this for us to find?

Let's examine the reason,

Why Maggie piped her eye.

Because she was running into the season,

When she'd have a very good try,

To retain her political office,

And needed to whip up the Conservative cry!

Was she shedding tears about unemployment?

Or starving, or suffering abroad?

Or a diminishing sense of enjoyment,

At putting the working class to the sword?

In fact, in seeking direction,

I find her tears were more easily shed,

Because, in a bygone political election,

Her father was shoved out of bed!

So nothing had changed, she was still a hard face,

Representing the Tory hard view.

And crocodile tears were cunningly dropped,

So that she could put one over on you!

She kept on selling our assets,

And rejoicing in false economic delights.

But the day of reckoning, was just over the hill,

When she had to lower her political kites.

Oh! Maggie, you said we'd never had it so good!

And, to some extent, that was true.

But the whole truth was, that we'd never had it at all,

And we didn't get it when they got rid of you!

Because, my dear, your Party stayed on,

Continuing your direction and sway.

But, at last, we're all waking up to the fact,

That Tory mismanagement must no longer pay!  

By Polly Filla.     

Author: Trevor Durbidge   Copyright © 2001 [TJD].   All rights reserved.   Revised: October 30, 2007 .

Top of the page