Some Rump Poem by A. P. Herbert

This ten-year Parliament that sprang, they say,
From far-off causes and a different day,
This jaded, old, unrepresenting 'rump',
That has no destination but the dump:
That votes itself alive, no man knows why,
For it can claim no mandate but to die;
Yet is commanded (and does what it can)
To plan the planet and re-model Man!
Well, you have seen this old assembly burn
With lofty argument and deep concern,
And speak with strength, but rally with restraint
In fights and fixes that would vex a saint;
And stand for England, critical but true,
In troubles tougher than our fathers knew.
And is it now less busy, bold or sage?
Indeed, I fancy it improves with age.
For, citizen, remember, if you will,
You are the father, and inspire it still.
If it's a 'rump' that thus adorns the scene,
How very fine the body must have been!