The youth of today just won’t understand
What life in the eighties was like
Food on the table was paramount
And very few kids had a bike.
England was being run into the ground
A battle scene version of Hades
Labour Left Liverpool cast adrift
By Margaret the Iron lady
What happened on that April day
Embodied that Tory decease
Third class fans in rundown grounds
Impunity for the police
Duckenfield, clueless, out of his depth,
Up to his neck in pain and death
In Devon where he lays his head
May that day haunt your every breath
Pitiless Poppers post-mortem
Deliberate, callous and cruel
Accidental death at three fifteen?
Who were you trying to fool?
Thatchers police had served her so well
Waving notes at the down trodden miners
Cover up, statements were altered
How evil was blood testing minors?
Tory Boy Patnick went to work
Casting shame on the dead and the dying
For planting lies a knighthood earned
We always knew you were lying
And now the truth is out at last
They spout their sickly faux sorry
They’ll get what’s coming soon enough
Justice will see them the quarry
Thatcher now old and quite senile
Still an icon of anger and hate
No rejoicing til she’s safe and sound
In the Hades she tried to create
Great to see the truth finaly come out, a disgrace it took so long.
This poem equally applies to the Graham Kelly, Boris Johnson, the evil Kelvin McKenzie and all the other fools who believed the lies.
Your apologies are worthless.