NICOLA, I implore thee,

try very hard to adore me,

or I swear, I’ll ignore yea,

I am no bluffer;

you’ll never floor me,

I’ll make things tougher.

 

Nicola, I thought I’d mention,

to bring you down is my intention,

Your fear of me I’m now sensing,

you can’t deny it;

I seems I have got all attention,

and you are quiet.

 

Nicola, have you took a trip,

or does your shoulder have a chip,

have you buttoned up your lips,

I hear no fuss;

I have you in my Tory grips,

I’m Lizzie Truss.

 

Och Lizzie, what a load of tripe,

believe me I have met your type,

and with them, floors I’d wipe,

with simple ease;

you are a plum, not yet quite ripe,

begone dear, please.

 

George Robertson

Edinburgh