Priti Patel, Ms Priti Patel,
Burnished by sunshine of far Israel,
How we all cheered when on Marr you did smirk,
And as he got rattled, we yelled ‘O, good work!’

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Love-thirty, love-forty, oh weakness of joy,
With the speed of a swallow you mangled the goy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you played Marr,
And like a Hindu princess you cheeked and you slayed Marr.