Ok, the Trumpets play,

The brexit signs gleam and the prophets of doom

Seem serene. The gloom

Descends as the snow gathers. Friends!

Would you rather bore

The world with becoming

Furled in the mire of despairing?

Or go down the road singing?

No! I say, we who are about to die,

Play! In the gathering dark

Laugh! Ignite the spark of comedy!

Satire speaks from the heart. Depart!

Ye portents of doom. Fart! In the faces of stupidity 

Blow their abandoned logic to eternity!

Sing! This is Saturnalia, this is the Feast of Fools,

For us, this is defeat.

….and when they have destroyed us all, our treat

As the last light begins to go

remains “I Told You So.”