Once more unto the wheelie-bins, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As Lonsdale shoes and a can of Stella:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Tiny Tommy;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the coke,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd terrible tattoos;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the haze of vape
Like the GB News; let the brow o'erwhelm it