CELIA'S POEMS
No 283 December 24
Who’d want
to be Prime Minister,
It must be
the worst job ever,
Having to
stand up and say,
This
Christmas you can’t be together.
Let’s just
face the facts,
It’s a
thankless job he does,
Whatever he
is told to say,
He can’t
please all of us.
He’s put in
the firing line,
The
decisions are not just his,
The experts
make the decisions,
So he tells
us how it is.
Whoever is
Prime Minister,
I suppose
it’s their life’s ambition,
Whatever
privileges or money they get,
I wouldn’t
want their position.
I’ve enough
thinking of my family,
It’s been
the worst year we’ve known,
Boris is
worrying about everybody,
Can’t think
about his own.
I don’t get
into politics,
I just feel
sorry for this man,
He has a
killer to contend with,
And is
doing the best he can.