Electors, ever insincere,
provide polite applause,
of Mitterand they know no fear,
he's still to show them cause.
ere long they'll stall, or jeer, not cheer,
unless vote reassures.
Here socialistic cats appear
with communistic claws;
they pause, although with purpose clear,
steel glows through velvet paws.
They're posed to pounce, the vote draws near,
no reason here to pause.
Should they past policies adhere
and pass their Program's laws,
then much that democrats hold dear
could fall behind closed doors.
So farewell France, elsewhere I'll steer,
towards old Blighty's shores.
Jonathan ROBIN's Other Poems
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