Albert The Prime Minister
(With sincere apologies to Marriott Edgar)
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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.
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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.
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A lion had swallowed young Albert.
He never got digested.
The Lion he coughed and up Albert came.
Eh.. his Mum she were disgusted.
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‘Post-traumatic’ the doctor said,
Better find him job inside.
So Albert went to steelworks,
A wage it did provide.
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Now Albert’s job in steelworks
Can to abrupt and sudden end.
Redundancy had reared its head,
Business too broke to mend.
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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.
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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!
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One day a call to Downing Street
Came in all urgent like.
Albert pedalled round as fast he could,
To repair THE Boris bike.
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He passed police at gate,
Nodding all pleb like and demure.
They directed him round t’ back,
Where things were less secure.
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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.
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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?”
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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.”
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Theresa piped up all strident like,
“We need some fresh new blood.
For this administration,
Needs someone to take much mud.”
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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.”
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Well Albert dropped his Allen keys
In total disbelief.
He often played in lower ranks,
But never played the Chief.
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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!”
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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.
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Albert had always been studious type,
And took many night school classes.
Languages and politics were his thing,
With numerous examination passes.
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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.
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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.
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A good strong dose of common sense,
Albert were dispensing.
He did not lack the common touch,
His logic were unrelenting.
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He trekked off quick to see EU,
Keen to engage and deal.
Speaking all their languages,
Albert made all rifts to heal.
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A stunning deal within a week,
Had our Albert won.
UK had left that Europe thing
For the price of a Belgian bun.
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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
