All the King's Horses

What a circus – what a show!

Couldn’t they see they were wasting their time?
Downright insanity, fighting the system....

abortive machinations, futile procrastinations.
Those ignorant plebs; such blatant mendacity
so sadly lacking in perspicacity.

Great stuff, McFay! Yet, all he’s done is put Humpty
together again, as cronies crowd round him
like flies over dung.

“Is Svengali reborn?” they wonder...if, of course,
he was ever born at all.

"Lick my boots!” he thunders in his choice, charming style
and like lambs to the slaughter they follow in line –

blindly kneel in hypnotic-like trance at the feet of McFay
with the burden he carries; that chip on his shoulder,
masochistically, stoically borne.

“Hark, hark!” hear them cry, “Is that the lark
or the sweet, dulcet strains of our saviour, McFay?”

“Great to see Humpty together again, so shout hip-hooray!”
say all the king’s men.

On his soapbox so tall, on account he’s so small,
“As of today, let the status quo reign!” proclaims old McFay.

Say all the king’s horses, “Neigh!”