Hand of history on his shoulder
The Lord Almighty’s armchair soldier
Been there, done that, richer, older
Mr Blair has no regrets
Well-groomed, perfumed, well-heeled, well-fed
His “thoughts and prayers” with England’s dead
Plastic poppies strewn upon his bed
Mr Blair has no regrets
No doubt, no qualms, no shame, no guilt
No crying over blood that’s spilt
Team America to the hilt
Mr Blair has no regrets
Hidden weapons fairy story
Evil monster Jackanory
Sound the bugle of vainglory
Mr Blair has no regrets
Bad tyrants must be toppled over
What a lovely war Jehovah
Let’s all sing “White Cliffs of Dover”
Mr Blair has no regrets
Non – il ne regrette rien monsieur
Combat’s Edith Piaf bon viveur
Full metal jacket – suit you sir
Mr Blair has no regrets
Phosphorous burning in hell’s forge
Uranium rising in the gorge
Cry God for Tony and St George
Mr Blair has no regrets
Walking wounded, widows on their knees
Screaming orphans, shell-shocked refugees
Slaughter, torture, butchered amputees
Mr Blair has no regrets
A hard rain falls like molten knives
On husbands, mothers, sons and wives
A thousand thousand wasted lives
Mr Blair says he regrets that bit
Eden turned to an endless Somme
Daily Baghdad bus queue bombs
Grim-visag’d peace, salaam, shalom
Mr Blair has no regrets
Cocooned in money for old rope
His soul whitewashed in holy soap
More infallible than the pope
Mr Blair has no regrets
He’ll fight them on his tropical beach
In gung-ho after-dinner speech
On, on, once more unto the breach
Mr Blair has no regrets
by elvis mcgonagall, october 2013
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