Buccaneer spirits free flags up our mast, freedom at last to raise funds while we hedge, to schmooze the investors with wookiest wedge.
Selling munitions to warlords dictators
Teaching their offspring to play up the game
Whether Eton or Harrow they'll all sound the same, with their,Factories in China,Hookers on yachts,Bentleys in Monaco,soon to be trips round the moon.
Fruits of free enterprise gathered by few, The global elite with a halcyon view
Have all but destined the rest, especially the ones who thought Brexit was best, to be minimum waged Amazonian slaves, as our trailer park trash, feeding the kids in a food-bank dash
But at least with her majesties face on the cash
