Now Cummings is a scruffy chap: he’s called the PM’s paw —
For Boris so depends on him, he can defy the law.
He’s the bafflement of Sky News and the BBC’s despair:
When they reach the lockdown site—Cummings is not there!
1/12

Cummings D, Cummings D, there’s no one quite like Cummings D,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His northeastwards transportation would a racing driver scare:
2/12

When you reach the isolation site—Cummings isn’t there!
You may seek him down in London, you may look him up in Ayr—
But when he’s meant to stay at home, Cummings is not there!
3/12

Cummings is a scrawny chap, he’s very bald and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his eyes will madly flutter;
4/12

His T-shirts are unironed, like he sleeps out in a gutter.
He points his fingers at the press, with threats that sting like bees;
And when he’s meant to be at home, he’s walking by the Tees.
5/12

Cummings D, Cummings D, there’s no one quite like Cummings D,
For he’s a fiend in human shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
You won’t see him where he’s meant to be, for Cummings isn’t there!
6/12

He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at votes.)
And lefties hate it when he screams at refugees in boats.
And when a referendum’s lost, and Tories win the North,
7/12

And Britain’s leaving Europe, and Corbyn meets with wrath,
Or the spending rules are broken, and the system’s past repair—
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Cummings isn’t there!
8/12

When lockdown laws are cast aside and all because a day
Of awkward headline stories ‘bout advisers gone astray,
There may some supine tweetings from a minister or mayor—
But it’s useless to interrogate—Cummings isn’t there!
9/12

And when the breach has been disclosed, the Durham policemen say:
‘It must have been DC at Dad’s, two-fifty miles away.’
You’ll be sure to find him writing blogs, or on a Weardale run,
Or dancing round to Abba in the garden ‘neath the sun.
10/12

Cummings D, Cummings D, there’s no one quite like Cummings D,
No other staffer could survive such graceless lack of suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
And wherever he’s supposed to be—CUMMINGS WASN’T THERE!
11/12

And they say that all the hacks whose rightwards slant is widely known
(I might mention dear old Laura, or Rob Peston from his home)
Are making juniors search through tweets and sharpening their knives,
To prepare of next week’s big news: the takedown of their lives!
12/12