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The proud lion has been tamed, By the clown with the crazy hair, Now transformed into lemmings, He’s no longer there. Twenty seven friends disappear at the magician’s bequest, The people have spoken, so he grants their request, Manipulated the crowd by swiftness of hand, Told lies on a bus the length of the land. Jugglers struggle to control both left and right, Denying gravity exists, with their egos they fight, Behind cabinet doors they practice their act, Despite the denial of every logical fact. Show ponies dance to their ring master’s tune, Strutting their heads blandly covered in plumes, The chimpanzee tea-party is the most realistic of all, Conjuring up images of Westminster Hall. The audience is vetted, no Johnny Foreigner at this show, They offer nothing to the experience so away they must go, No man is an island, but it appears that we are, We’re free to make new friends, not from near but a far. The star of the show determined on her solo high wire act, Despite all the jeers and shaking to the end she must get, The bigtop’s crowd stir in a mood of dark discontent, This isn’t what they opted for when granting consent. They demand a full refund, a second go at their show’s choice, But the circus acts are stubborn and deaf to their powerless voice, We believed all the lies and the false testimony, We now know we made the worst decision in human history. — Philip Wood |