I call my MP, Alice,
As her head’s in Wonderland.
But I bear the girl no malice,
She just doesn’t understand.
She insists we call her doctor
Yet her words do naught to heal
I admit, at times, I’ve mocked her.
And her xenophobic zeal.
Saying she speaks for we, the common,
She gives voice to hate and fear.
Yet, if Hindu, she’d be Brahman.
I’m not often moved to jeer.
We need leaders with a vision
Of a way we’ll all advance,
Not a cultural collision,
Their own power to enhance.
She fancies she’s our northern light.
I find her cold and callous.
She is no beacon high and bright,
Our Roaring Boring Alice!