He’s risen! To Christendom everywhere, it’s been announced,

A victory for the poor and downtrodden, evil’s been trounced;

That crucified carpenter’s son did not suffer in vain,

Said the Archbishop-who’d sided with slanderers, dealers of pain.

But the tool-maker’s son does not care about justice and light,

Nor turds in the Thames, nor nurses, nor the school-teachers’ plight;

From the gutter as low as the Tories, his dog-whistle sounds,

Hey you-white Christian boys in bleak northern towns!

See, our paedophile poster; vote for the tool-maker’s son,

That way to the refugee hostel, break windows, have fun;

Murdochian spewers of filth, are now in full flow.

Britannia’s now sinking to a new and despicable low.