Mrs Malaprop Laments

It’s disgusting, this scamdemic,

No one knows if nothing’s true.

Jobs have gone, and everyone’s on Pernod.

Well that’s no good is it?

And keeping your social resistance?

Can’t whisper confidentialities no more, can you?

Play at home, protect the NHS and shave lives

Doesn’t sound right to me.

The pub is shut

And everyone looks like a bank robber.

All those poor souls on incubators

And the rest without toilet paper

And all because of pile stocking.

So, we’ll paint rainbows

And give all the doctors and nurses the clap.

Because we are grateful.

Steve Blakesley © July 2020