We call them frogs
Not those amphibians
Among tall reeds croaks
Nearby brooks and streams

Not of green coloured things
Come together in a swamp
And on rainy days sings
Their faces go plump

Rather we called politicians
Or their sorts frogs stoop low
To hop one party at an instance
To the next when bribed to do so

Without a thought of us voters
Who trusted put them there
In the pool to lend voices
To be heard equally fair

Long opportunistic tongues
Catched corrosive corrupted flies
Flying round them praises and songs
Gullible followers clings to political lies

You hoppers loves gerrymandering about
Pump air till the cheeks gone purple
You can proudly boast and shout
But stop cheating the people

Beware too of their followers
They too with their dubious ways
Carbon copy of their callous leaders
Gloat in glamour of their hopping days.