Dangled England, in
anagram, is my reason,
for this poem, of hope.

With Scots and Welsh
at either side, each one
kicking, on a rope.

With their all for one
and one for all, they
treated Paddy as Joe Soap.

But look at you now,
insidious *******,
gummed in an envelope

May, God and Queen,
let Philip drive to a
Sandringham slippery *****.

Because, no matter, what
you think, we Irish still
have the Pope.