Thatcher in hell

 

MAGGIE IN HELL

 

When I got to Hell's gate
They told me : Thatcher, cry
Your place is on the grate
Where all the preachers fry.

 

Miners yelled in the hall,
I was shocked and surprised
To see them unload coal
With their glee undisguised,

 

Each dispatching his lot
In fires that never fade,
And soon I turned red-hot
Since I am iron-made.

 

I saw not far away,
Both already well done,
My dear Pinochet
and my old friend Reagan.

 

Then the lord of the place
Made a quick inspection,
But strutting at such pace
He heard not my lection,

 

This advice from his friends :
Hell should be privatised,
And its army of fiends
Severely downsized.

 

 

Le Club est l'espace de libre expression des abonnés de Mediapart. Ses contenus n'engagent pas la rédaction.