Speccie Nursery Rhymes
 

Rather a Spherefest this week. Bazza gets the fiver, Jayne and Chris O'Carrrol mop up and even I get an hon mensh.

The new comp ought to keep us scribbling over the festive.

NO. 2729: sing a song of...
You are invited to recast a well-known nursery rhyme, filtering it through the lens of a recent news story (eg. Hey diddle diddle the MPs they fiddled...). Max. 16 lines. Please email entries, where possible, lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 4 January.

Old Mother Merkie...
She went to the oh I don't know
To get little Sarko a bone

Old Mother Merkle

Old Mother Merkle
She ran round in circles
To get little Sarko some cash,

But the money men said
'Your currency's dead,
Unless you've got lots in your stash.'

Little Sarko cried, 'Woof!
That great British pouf
Has commited spectacular treason.

If none of the bureaux
Will honour our Euros
Cet enfant terrible is the reason!'

Wot, no other Spherical entrants, leaving a clear field for the polyvalent and ubiquitous maestro Mr. W?

Dave, he was a Cameron,
He joined a club when he was young,
And then the game he liked to play
Was, ‘Smash the place up for we can pay’;
Smash the place up like a proper toff,
And cash will always get us off.

Dave with a speech made such a noise,
That he pleased Tory girls and boys,
And some still cheer to hear him say,
‘Smash the place up, and Clegg will pay'.

And a Happy New Austere Year to everyone.

Nearly forgot to have a go at this one!

Old Prince Phil wasn’t merry; he was ill,
and very, very ill was he.
He called for the Queen
and he said, “Where’ve you been?
What was under the tree for me?”

Poor old Phil, with his heart not brill,
didn’t croak, quite surprisingly.
Though we thought he might,
he put up a good fight
so he won’t miss the Jubilee.

Ninety old Phil left the hospit-ill
and a merry old soul was he.
He smiled, no less,
at the waiting Press.
(He’s a mardy git, normally!)