Antiquated hypocrisy, and historical echoes
Petty politicians, and ludicrous lords
Where they come from, who really knows
But they are oft crossing, angry, bitter swords

In reality, nothing much has changed
Future prospects, await in vain
As man, and nature, become estranged
A nation's pride, is on the wane

Great expectations, of hope, and glory
A scepter'd isle, now septic
Omnipresent hope, a fictional story?
And the doubting words of a sceptic

Unemployed multitudes, in discontented scorn
Political bias, and alien lies
Empty promises, hand-on heart sworn
Plenty of words, but are they ever wise?

As a new year now approaches
With mirrored contemplation, of ages past
Britain's grated kingdom, no longer encroaches
Distant lands, now free at last

Britannic waves, no longer ruled
Churchillian beaches, no longer fought on
Shakespearean isles, no longer bejewelled
Long gone are martyrs, like St Alban

by Jemia