The voice speaks with such authority

Countless promises given with plausibility

The crowd roars their affirmation

The speaker receives their confirmation

Power is his goal, to rule one and all

And in their ignorance lead them to their thrall

As a prospector striking gold,

He draws them all into his fold

From highest motives he pleads

For to accomplish all their needs

Poverty to be banished evermore

Homes for all and jobs galore

Whilst he unseen ascends the throne

And plots their downfall machination

Undaunted by their recrimination,

Having won their cross marked down

In polling booth with n'er a sound. By I Platt, Thornton Avenue, Heaton.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.