Red Ken Yuan

You can't ask those questions he said it's not fair
Snide talk of Tibet and Tiananmen Square
That's something in common our riotous pasts
It's just like the Poll Tax or Troops in Belfast

His reptilian grin a political sneer
Blank conscience no tears
So we've nothing to fear
From a flashback to Nelson whose forecourt he cleared

Of pigeons and traffic, odd vagrant street scum
Our Mayor, our Leader, our Number One Son
Now licking his lips in Shanghai and Bejing
Where liberty cries are drowned out by "Ker-ching"

Whose State spins new twists on their famed revolution
To deny persecution
Spew waste and pollution
Yet to them now he turns for Olympic solutions?

Fast forward to London Two Thousand and Twelve
Sir Ken may be gone but his legacy swells
With anthems, gold medals no accolade finer
Indelibly tinted with the blood of Red China.

©Ahealy2006

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