She's Leaving Home

With apologies to Paul McCartney ...

[four bars of plaintive harp music]

Wednesday morning at twelve o’clock, PMQs begin 
Goes through the motions, feels weak at the knees 
Then to the Palace to hand in her keys … 
She goes downstairs to the limo, clutching her handkerchief 
Dabbing her eyes like old Thatcher’s ghost 
Stepping outside, she is toast 

   She (I gave it most of my life) 
   Is leaving (sacrificed most of my life) 
   Town (I tried so hard to look smart all the time) 
   She’s leaving town after dicking around for so many years 

Boris snorts as he wanders round in his dressing gown 
Picks up the letter the courier brought 
Standing in triumph; another great snort 
He laughs loud, and cries to his mistress 
“Carrie, Phil Hammond’s gone! 
Why did he stymie May’s No-Deal plan? 
What can be done with the man?” 

   She (I had no thoughts of my own) 
   Is leaving (never a thought of my own) 
   Town (I struggled hard to learn all of my lines) 
   She’s leaving town after dicking around for so many years 

Friday morning at nine o’clock she is history 
Hawking some diaries excusing her crimes 
Meeting a man from the Sunday Times 

   She (what did I do that was wrong?) 
   Is hist’ry (I didn’t know it was wrong) 
   Now (nothing achieved to remember me by!) 
   Somehow her stuff, it was never enough in so many ways 
   She’s hist’ry now (bye bye) 

ND