That Force-Ripe Morning

Dare to dream that the dawn is breaking,
like cracked eggs in we sky, this force-ripe morning

on an independent United Kingdom
where crapo croak he song each morning,

this, if the predictions now are right, this will be a victory
grabbed like flies snatched with fork tongue flickering

for real people, a victory for ordinary people, a victory
where ho who puffed up his puny chest, will deflate

decent people. We have fought against the multinationals, we
No he who croak loud loud will crawl backwards, still preaching.

We have fought against the big merchant banks, we have fought
No he, with forked tongue, who lay eggs in fresh water to float will drown

against big politics, we have fought against lies, corruption and deceit.
No he who said dare to dream that the dawn is breaking, will break out of

Honesty, decency and belief in nation, I think
he will slink out into the night, his sweet water soured.