Albert The Prime Minister
(With sincere apologies to Marriott Edgar)
Albert were a tinsmith, a man of many talents.
He grew up hard in Northern climes,
With holidays to Blackpool’s famous seaside place,
Full of chips and ice cream chimes.
As a grand little lad he went to Zoo
With doting Mum and Dad.
He’d met a Lion, but then slipped up,
All around said it were bad.
A lion had swallowed young Albert.
He never got digested.
The Lion he coughed and up Albert came.
Eh.. his Mum she were disgusted.
‘Post-traumatic’ the doctor said,
Better find him job inside.
So Albert went to steelworks,
A wage it did provide.
Now Albert’s job in steelworks
Can to abrupt and sudden end.
Redundancy had reared its head,
Business too broke to mend.
Albert heeded some old advice,
So on his bike he got.
He cycled down to London Town,
Where he’d heard that jobs were hot.
He soon washed up as bike fix man,
Which played to his skill set.
He plied his trade in South West One,
He was amazed at folks he met!
One day a call to Downing Street
Came in all urgent like.
Albert pedalled round as fast he could,
To repair THE Boris bike.
He passed police at gate,
Nodding all pleb like and demure.
They directed him round t’ back,
Where things were less secure.
Now Boris’s bike were propped up like,
‘Gainst great big window frame.
He set to work on broken gears
When startled, he heard his name.
He looked right in to great long table,
Three famous faces sitting round.
He said to three assemble there,
“Which one of you made sound?”
The one called Boris jumped to feet,
And admitted it was he.
“We’ve something that may interest you,
We’re looking for PM you see.”
Theresa piped up all strident like,
“We need some fresh new blood.
For this administration,
Needs someone to take much mud.”
Now Michael, who’d been sulking quiet,
Let out with heartfelt thrill,
“I changed the law while no one looked,
And we can co-opt PM at will.”
Well Albert dropped his Allen keys
In total disbelief.
He often played in lower ranks,
But never played the Chief.
Nerves of steel had our Albert
And bags of tough resolve.
“I’ll take your job and do yer proud,
And you can keep your Tory gold!”
One billion pounds they’d set aside,
So news came as some relief.
Some fool to take that Brexit flack,
And the cost, not one penny piece.
Albert had always been studious type,
And took many night school classes.
Languages and politics were his thing,
With numerous examination passes.
MPs were shocked with new PM.
“How could this be?” they brayed.
But Michael had stitched that kipper tight,
So contrary case could not be made.
Albert took to his feet within the House,
Still dressed in Bib and Brace.
Within ten minutes of maiden speech,
All lay stunned with his poise and grace.
A good strong dose of common sense,
Albert were dispensing.
He did not lack the common touch,
His logic were unrelenting.
He trekked off quick to see EU,
Keen to engage and deal.
Speaking all their languages,
Albert made all rifts to heal.
A stunning deal within a week,
Had our Albert won.
UK had left that Europe thing
For the price of a Belgian bun.
Theresa, Mike and Boris were looking quite amazed.
‘How did you do it son?’
Albert replied all confidential like,
‘Well after surviving that there ruddy Lion, anything’s easily done!’
©Keith Murphy
