I
They say if you are born poor
Its not your fault
But if you die poor
Its your fault
  
 II
Well my darling child
I have tried all I can
Made long journeys to the west
Mistreated and thrown away
Left stranded at boarders
Seen the struggling of emigrants
Searching for better lives
III
If Briexit was because of us
Then our future remain a bleak
But be strong my child
Cry not my cute baby
Once I noticed that
A rainbow only forms
After a storm
One day our journeys will make sense.