Julian's Yeats poem reminds me of one of Shelley's:-

ENGLAND IN 1819

An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--
An army which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless, a book sealed,--
A Senate—Time's worst statute unrepealed,--
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst to illumine our tempestuous day.

 

Here's my updated version

ENGLAND IN 2015

 

An old Etonian, low IQ PM

and Chancellor, just bright enough to see

that keeping living standards high for them

and setting leech-like speculators free

can justify decisions to condemn

the country to prolonged austerity.

The young must work or starve, the sick must die,

Food banks and pay-day loans are here to stay.

The press, police, our rulers, cheat and lie.

We read their lips but laugh at what they say.

An army fights a war, no-one knows why

the virtual vultures fill a darkening sky

and Christians, Muslims, Jews forget to pray

As we await the coming judgement day.