It is reported that David Cameron has just taken delivery of a rather posh shepherd’s hut.
The shepherd’s hut of old folklore,
Was barely more than roof and floor,
But now rich people have them bought,
And paid a bit more than they ought.
These new ones might be made of oak,
And fitted out in ways bespoke,
With double glazing, seats that spring,
Quite suitable for any king.
In Tudor times glazing was rude,
Windows with little glass imbued,
And in the hole there in the wall,
There was, in fact, no glass at all.
These huts now for the modern age,
Are in the papers – every page –
And this is since our old PM,
Has said he now has one of them.
He says he wants to read and write,
Perhaps to sleep there in the night,
And if house guests should come to stay,
He’ll stick them there right out the way.
His bodyguard is none too sure,
With armoured layers being fewer,
He might, while sipping lemonade,
Succumb to someone’s hand grenade.
And though the hut has iron wheels,
The officer in charge still feels,
That it would be a big mistake,
To try to use it for escape.
But people can so gloomy be,
For if you look then you will see,
The exhaust pipe has been enlarged,
Suggesting it is turbocharged.
So Cameron’s no need to fear,
If he’s got to get out of here,
His hut is special, one of few,
And didn’t come from B&Q!
Image – DeFacto / Wikimedia commons