The Difficult Story of Mr Wright

Here’s the difficult story of Mr Wright:

Here’s the difficult story of Mr Wright:

He loved his brother ‘cause they used to fight

And he knew the love his dad must have felt

‘cause he strapped them tight with his thick leather belt


Mum and dad never got much from school

Beyond behave and watch the rules

If he came back with homework then

They struggled and shrugged- it meant little to them


The people who did well at school

-he thought- saw him as a fool

Those who award were awarded the pass

To that other world, that other class


So he was glad to leave at 16

And Ford’s wanted people to work the machines

The money was good – he had enough

Then they started to lay people off


But he was always in work: labouring, delivering

Not like those who didn’t earn a living

But although he got by he found it hard to smile

Whatever he felt, he felt bottom of the pile


The distant rich didn’t shake his contentment

Their Ferraris must be luck or judgement

But those up his street- the Poles, the workshy

Surely they moved by shoving him aside?


And what is now called progress

Seemed to him a lawless mess

‘gay rights’ equality, more jobs for girls

Seemed the wreck and rubble of his old world


Seemed the end of certainty he felt:

He’d kept his Dad’s hard leather belt

Hidden in a drawer – another fact

that proved the oppression of the ‘politically correct’


He wants to vote for a staunch, historic nation

Bring back hanging, cut benefits, end immigration

And those who blame background, he’d call them a traitor

For asking: who’s victim and who’s perpetrator?

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