Brexit Sonnet No. 56 – ‘Fields of Pain’

This day our PMs on a foreign tour,
To a land with differing customs from her own.
To a land of which she can’t be sure;
It’s all so new this difference freshly grown.
It’s a land where tax is paid by all who work,
It’s a land where jail awaits those breaking laws,
It’s a land where expenses offer no free perk,
It’s a land where recess offers not a pause.
It must be strange to visit this foreign land,
Unusual sights, unusual sounds and smells.
Be quick, for this ancient union may not stand!
Take it in, this land where Brexit dwells.
So please enjoy this jolly foreign trip,
As through fields of pain, we gently skip.

©Keith Murphy