by Jerome Betts
While walking in Wales, Mrs. May
Decided just which was the day
She’d complete demolition
Of Labour’s position
And sweep the sad remnants away.
It was clear no Conservative feared
This opponent whom many deemed weird,
So she made a huge bet
On the landslide she’d get
Plus a sneer at the man with the beard.
But the grey-bobbed T. M., 8th of June,
Heard the sound of a bursting balloon.
That first exit poll
Confirmed her own goal . . .
And a chance for the straw-haired buffoon?
O hubris, what grief you have cost her!
She’s in thrall now to Ulster’s A. Foster!
Neither stable nor strong,
No doubt before long
She’ll appear on the ex-PMs’ roster.