The DWP – a gothic horror

Fellow writer Brian Smith, on The Hall Writers’ Forum, set a challenge to write Byronic¬†ottava rima on the subject of the impending General Election. Here are my verses on the theme:

Now’s the time for flap and filibuster,
and polished manifestos; it’s all play
to make us sick and tired of all their bluster,
so we’ll retire and let them have their way.
It’s just as well the police force doesn’t trust her
or else a coup’d be staged by Witchy May.
The nasty party could get nastier still,
Vampiric Duncan Smith is out to kill.

He rises from his crypt at evening-fall,
Coughing as he dons his silken cape
That trails among the wiggly things that crawl
around him, and the boots of steel that scrape
the ground and grind the poor to dust withal.
The bedroom tax was such a jolly jape:
“O leeches, come! we’ve blood to let! You hounds,
Come, rip apart their sofas! Find their pounds!”

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