ON THE ROYAL MAIL
Santa Claus delivers but once a year to you, Yet he receives far more recognition than our postmen do. Up at four each morning, A ten-hour shift ahead; Sorting through illegible addresses, Fighting that overgrown tree and hedge. They wear the Royal logo, But Tories treat them more like slaves: āSell āem to the highest bidder,ā Thatās what Cameron says. The price on the Queenās head will soar If Thatcher life is renewed. Donāt get mad at posties for being on the picket line; Theyāre doing it for you.
poem by Bryony Harrison, copyright 2013.
Santa Claus delivers but once a year to you, Yet he receives far more recognition than our postmen do. Up at four each morning, A ten-hour shift ahead; Sorting through illegible addresses, Fighting that overgrown tree and hedge. They wear the Royal logo, But Tories treat them more like slaves: āSell āem to the highest bidder,ā Thatās what Cameron says. The price on the Queenās head will soar If Thatcher life is renewed. Donāt get mad at posties for being on the picket line; Theyāre doing it for you.
poem by Bryony Harrison, copyright 2013.
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