The voters of Britain said phooey.

They’ve had it with being E-U-ey.

Proving that even today

The you-know-who start at Calais.

 

Globalization is hooey.

It’s curries, kabobs and chop suey.

They’d much rather pick at the bones

Of whatever is left of Dow-Jones.

 

Trafalgar-ish or Waterloo-ey

They cling to the past, like a buoy,

Or wrap themselves in it, like flannel,

Safe on their side of the Channel.

 

As Truman was beaten by Dewey

The polls were all mixed up and screwy.

And Europe can just disunite

There’ll always be more wars to fight.

 

 

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