Brexit Sonnet No. 107 – ‘How do I find Dover?’

“So how do I find this white cliffed port of Dover?
It seems to be not on my blasted map.
Those iconic cliffs, those bluebirds over,
Some war I think, (of which I’ve lost all track).
Have we no Channel bridge? I thought we had,
I’m sure Boris did say – I heard him tell.
It’s like a wall but flatter, and not as bad.
Still, let’s drive that tunnel, our goods to sell.
So drive through Essex to this magic port,
This garden of England green, this Red Rose county,
This God’s own county and Tories last resort.
How glad I am that I’m no Oxbridge townie.”
…Mr. Raab – just join the lorry queue,
South East from London – queuing just for you.

©Keith Murphy