T (no first name) Wignesan


Limerick crochetés: Portrait of a Dead Brit Nazi, Lord of the Lollypoppians


Part One

Once an uppity man from Poland
Wed a stumpy wench from High Golan
Result: mangy mongrel
Was no way you could tell
His front from his toady tail-end

In Broughton raised as Mancunian
For his stature was Lilliputian
Sent up to hot Eton
To become smooth Briton
Of hoi polloi he nursed low opinion

There at the clubby institution
Three thorough-breds of noble distinction
Chased him in quadrangle
Stuck dildos up sockle
In his hock-filled mouth sans elocution

Lacking shining past in his pedigree
Made him mug up facts in history
Shot up into Oxford
Father grandeur afford
Marks and shillings through frilly lingérie


At New College what spoke most was money
Free drinks all around and clothes so horney
So things ran with his ilk
Reeking of mothers’ milk
Ere going down he rode high and pretty

Once down he was not down and out either
With free hand in till of his step-mother
In book trade old mongrel
The art of the scoundrel
He made much of his blithering litter

Dreamed day and night of the House of Lords
To rub knees with the Chancellor of Boards
Stuffed Labour coffers cash
Stood for Commons: whiplash
Injury by hoi polloi on records

© T. Wignesan – Paris,2014



Submitted: Monday, May 12, 2014

Topic of this poem: satire


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