At the bottom of my hill
They’re building a UKIP store,
Going to be whiter than the White House.
It’ll be the size of 15 football fields,
It’ll make the Pound shops go spare,
They’ll be no point in the town centre.
Soon they will be selling
Retro gollywogs courtesy of Bloom,
Farage beer-glasses made in China.
There’ll be Nuttall crackers
And Trump gropers resembling tongs
With the President’s face on.
There’ll be Bennett bins
To put the foreign muck in ;
Hamilton masks, two-faced, for Hallowe’en.
There’ll be Gill wind-up dolls
Which will explode like fracking,
Marine pens full of poison.
There’ll be Geert Wildebeest
Cuddly toys which will bite
Your children while they’re sleeping.
They’re calling it Kipper Towers,
Won’t employ Poles or Portuguese
(Unless they work for nothing, all hours).