Number 76, Pying Pyong!

Pying Pyong!

Bless my Seoul, we got it wrong!

Should have known it was Pyang Yong!

Or somewhere easily offended,

Where their dignity depended,

On the proper flag of state;

Not the southern one they hate!

Like putting up the German one,

When a British chap has won

The Tour de Somewhere on a bike,

Which you Dear Leader wouldn't like!

But we are pommie through and through,

So bound to get it wrong with you.

It’s something we do very well,

And anyway, oh, what the hell!

Come and have a cup of tea,

I’ll patronise and pat your knee,

Say ‘there there, it doesn’t matter,

That you’re mad as the Mad Hatter,

Back at home in North Korea,

Where life's pretty grim I hear,

And by the way how is the wife?

And what does she think of your life?

Or more the point; what does she think

Of how the lives of others stink?

Of how they all have lost their hope,

That Kim Jong Un is just a dope,

Who’s stolen all their lives away,

And made them pay and pay and pay,

And brainwashed all of them each day,

To worship and adore one man,

More than any human can

Endure, and surely in the end…

The more their wills you try to bend,

The closer comes the day when they,

Will break for freedom, and then Hey!!

Un will just another be;

Un-dictator, wait and see!’

© Stephen Saunders

Please read number 54 again now.

To book Stephen for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212

Agent / publisher / illustrators wanted.