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.