Nine Years Poem by A. P. Herbert

'Old and effete—this Parliament!' they cried,
The laughing lads who stand about outside
(Though now they ask the object of their mirth
To mend the world and reconstruct the earth).
But say, what other Parliament can claim
'The more I lived the better I became'?
Musso was master when it made its bow:
But where is Signer Mussolini now?
This is the Parliament that stood at bay
With tyrant conquerors across the way.
This is the Parliament that never ran,
That worked in London with the working-man,
And quietly continued in debate
With bombs about or doodles at the gate;
That never let the chosen leader down,
Still gave him smiles when Fortune wore a frown;
Knew how to nudge, but studied not to nag,
And kept the cats discreetly in the bag.
Maybe, had Hitler such a faithful friend,
He would not be so very near the end.
Say what you will for blemish or for blame,
The Victory Parliament will be its name.
October 29, 1944