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.