"No man is an island", wrote John Donne,
"but everyone, part of the Main".
Too late now, after what they've done:
They're scared, they would rather remain!
Quaint, naive, bumbling fools!
They never integrated fully.
In for a penny, in for the Pound,
Is not something they believed in!
And then the Poles landed. In numbers!
Poor insulated island nation!
In their time, they plundered the world,
Now they grudge to share with the Main.
The youth never wanted to Leave,
They sensed the mess they were in;
The Elders would rather not remain,
But they're old: they will soon Leave!
The main guy, who wanted to Remain,
has now announced his own exit;
The main guy, who wanted to exit
has fled, before they tread over his Remains.
Those who wanted to Remain
Carried some hope,
Of settling in the Main,
Leaving Britain to the Poles!
Now they stare bleakly across
The narrow channel that divides.
Left stewing in their own remains,
While the Main turns its back on them!
Time to rewrite what John Donne wrote:
"If those clods be washed away by the sea,
Europe couldn't care less!"
6 July, 2016
The famous poem by John Donne:
No man is an island,Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were:
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.