by John Whitworth

Air: The Wiliiam Tell Overture

Come away, come away, we will not stay.
Let us drink to the health of Theresa May:
She’s the lass with the class for this glorious day.
It’s the day that we dreamed would come.

It’s an end to the EU prospect drear.
It’s an end to the lies of Project Fear.
Now we’re out, they must tout for a new career.
It’s the day that they all succumb.

Every boff, every prof, every mandarin,
They all said we were dead, that we could not win,
That we’d have second thoughts when the sky fell in.
How they wish that they’d all kept mum.

Every hireling hack, every goof with a gong,
Every deadbeat repeating the same old song,
Repeat after me, you were just plain wrong
And you’re out on your lefty bum.