God Save The Gammon

They pine for days that never were,
Through fag-stained teeth and stagnant slur.
Where blackface clowns and monkey chants
Still echo loud in bitter rants.

The snow was whiter, summers long 
They hum some half-remembered song.
No climate lies, no “woke” offence,
Just ignorance dressed up as sense.

They clutch their flags like sacred skin,
Wrap rot and rage and hate within.
A pint, a bet, a Brexit cheer 
No future grows, but still they sneer.

Stagnant days spent waiting
for something meaningful to happen.
Pints, regrets and the stink of gammon.