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The man said he had no shoes

The people searched his face and felt his aim was true

Although he’d hemmed and hawed and his words were few

Fans said he was the angel not the devil we knew



Spin doctors insisted there would be nothing to rue:

‘Our man is so fresh, he’s something new

Vote for him and you‘ll see

He’s even got a PhD

He’ll make things as easy as ABC.’



The people said ‘he’s been so lucky, how can we lose?’

Those who questioned got torrents of abuse

And looks that implied that they belonged in zoos

As though they were inspired by lots of booze



So the people voted thinking ‘surely he’s paid his dues.’

Now he’s king but he’s got no clues

Although ministers and advisers are profuse

Stale bromides are all they can produce



He’s too far and too high to hear our views

Soon we might be spending days and nights on petrol queues

And hours aplenty warming dusty pews

Craving reprieve from God, any god, even Zeus



It’s like the ship of state has blown a fuse

We are adrift at sea, not on a cruise

With regret, we must now pay for an expensive ruse

Where once we heard only delightful coos

There is naught but a chorus of hisses and boos



When next we are called upon to choose

We should look beyond one’s ethnic and religious hues

We should ask for his ideals and values

And the whereabouts of his muse

When next someone says he had no shoes

Shoeless hoards should not act like moose



For the contender is no worse than those he woos

He is only the gander to our golden goose

It is not enough to vote on tribal cues

Lest we trap our necks in a tightening noose

To err is human, to repeat it is obtuse

Folly cannot continue as its own excuse

High definition hindsight is of no use

When precious time is what we lose

If to the outside world we amuse

Consider the evidence they adduce

If chances come for change but we refuse

Who but ourselves can we accuse?



For now we must endure the Nine O’clock news

Democracy is the right to stew in our own juice

Let us brace ourselves; this is the deuce

The powers and the people shall know no truce

For the next few years we’ll be singing the blues

(No wonder this sounds like Dr Seuss)
By Chris
http://www.facebook.com/notes/chris-ngwodo/voters-remorse/10150469226803278

u go fear pain in lyrics na