Mrs Robinson.

 

Fuck you,

Yes you Mrs Robinson.

We listened to your high brow

High road, I love the sinner;

Hate the sin platitudes.

I sat before you, your hand,

Resting on not one

But two bibles!

Fresh and as relevant as

Today’s newspaper.

You ranted,

 I listened,

To your racist, sectarian

 hate filled  moral potty mouth.

Was there no one you didn’t paint

With that weary old Whitehouse brush.

Teenagers, now that was a good one.

You in your black leathers, and ‘oh

I wouldn’t touch those Free Presbyterians

With a barge pole, bless them”

However, that young man,

Well his yard of teen age filth,

Was another matter entirely.

Your fall from grace, or into

Madness, who can say, was

Hard, brutal, anguished. So,

Now you know, a little

Of how it feels. I for one,

neither love or forgive the sinner.

In your own words;

You disgust me.

Fuck you,

Yes you Mrs Robinson.

 

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