18TH MARCH, 2003*

This day is called the Feast of Tony Blair.
He that outlives this day and holds his seat
Will stand a-blushing when this day is named
And blench him at the name of Tony Blair.
He that shall vote this day and live t'old age
Will yearly on the vigil dodge his neighbours
And say, "Tomorrow is not Tony Blair's?"
Then will he duck the Press and hide his part
And say, "These deeds I did on Blair's orders."
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with apologies,
What flights he fled that day. Then shall our names,
As soft soap in his mouth as household brands -
Tony the Mad, Bradshaw of Exeter,
Jack Straw and Amos, Hoon and Reid the cur -
Be in their guilty cups rarely remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son,
And T. Blair's foul name-day shall ne'er go by
From this time to the freeing of the world
But we in it shall be recalled and cursed,
We few, we shabby few, we band of bullies.
For he today that sells his soul with me
Shall be my doormat; be he ne'er so fine,
This day shall humble his condition.
And decent folk in Britain now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they had no vote,
And hold their suffrage cheap whiles any lives
That spoke for war upon false Tony's day.

                    (Apologies to William Shakespeare)



*The day that the House of Commons voted to support Blair in launching Britain on an illegal war
of aggression on Iraq, which is, according to Nuremberg, the ultimate war crime.

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