Duck!
Hands grip the Leavers of power
Conspiring to derail a runaway gravy train
To a sign on a replacement bus service
A starry blue flag becomes a red rag
To a raging bulldog
The Belgian matador takes aim
To the sound of an electronic doorbell, an e-knock
Rancid roast beef swimming down rivers of blood
The balding lion who wanted to re-mane
Will roar no more, but stay rampant
The unicorn is de-horned
But still stabs the lion in the back
Man United take the Norwegian option
But still stay out of Europe
A hard boarder in a Category A prison
Aims at a shot at the screw
The mark of a distant and Far age
Which never actually existed
A mop-headed philanderer will bore us
At the barbers with short backstop and sides
Sides splitting at the thought
Black clouds over white cliffs
Blue birds fly low
Observed by a knuckle-tattooed ornithologist on the Strabane-Lifford road
A hard birder in Ireland
Erdgan goes cold Turkey but will never join
Yet Norman Wisdom’s still big in Albania
Fat cats in a disunited kingdom of Late Kitten and Other Island
A minster of religion, the Reverend Um
Preaches a sermon to converted flocks
Congreagation at mass tricked
Into another treaty
Wither the storm?
But if you don’t like duck
You can go to f………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The Dreaming Armadillo 
Did you leave out a word at the end?
Cheerful art for cheerful times, eh?
Indeed Paul! You have to make the most of it.