Golly, John, you've scared them all off.
In the interests of colour-blindness . . .
The scarlet standard's fading fast
It seems a relic of the past:
The people's cause has grown so old
We've wrung the juice from every fold.
The rank and file have learnt to think
They like their leaders nice and pink
As modern times mean lots of brass
And workers turning middle-class.
So raise on high the stylised rose
Beneath its shade we'll blush and pose;
New Labour having made its bow
Red flags are just for beaches now.
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