Pewe, Trwe and Jowe
All sat in a tree
Along came beauty.
Who eyed them,
Suspiciously.
“Aha, what do you do?”
“Why, we await you.”
Looking upon the three
Sure her eyes decieve;
Trwe’s a balloon,
Jowe’s a mop,
And, Pewe’s a stingy bee.
“To habour my switch
You must make a pitch
How will you humour me?”
The mop alights and pats beauty’s hair
There, there, see I have care?
I’ll create a land
Where freedom stands,
A “Jowe’s land” for any man.
Balloon, pink in face,
Slid down to take his place,
“Trwe’s land” will be fertile and green
Buried problems will remain unseen
Come to us. Live ‘the dream’.”
Bee then spoke one word.
Pewe buzzed it, for all it’s worth.
“Freedom” Beauty heard.
Freedom from doctrine?
Beauty’s head did ring.
Could there be such a thing?
Then Beauty loud did shout
Her anger heard by all about
Into the well fell all three
Trwe, Pewe and Jowe
Disappeared to nought but air
Leaving Beauty with me.
The End.
By Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris.
Key to understanding this is that Pewe could be likened to Putin. Trwe to Trump and Jowe to Boris Johnson.
