Goodbye Mr Cummings
Your days in power are done
You’ve got a cardboard box with you
Departing looking somewhat glum

Goodbye Mr Cummings
Your Brexit work is done
It’s seems you are no longer known
As Bojo’s pal and bestest chum

Goodbye Mr Cummings
Where to will you go?
The military?  The media?
Who could possibly know?

Goodbye Mr Cummings
Enough words have been said
I wonder what strange thoughts and schemes
Are rushing through your head?

Goodbye Mr Cummings
Who’s next to fall I wonder?
Has your brand of toxic rhetoric
Cast your dreams asunder?

So take a pause you would be chaps
Who cuss with sharpened tongue
The clock will tick as you advance
To make sure you’re undone