‘Ye are many,
They are few’
Wrote Shelly,
After Peterloo,

16th August 1819,
Fifteen dead were seen,
In the Autumn crowds,
Covered in shrouds,
 
Time to cast of our chains
Why must we wait again?
Face what remains,
And face the pains,

Time to confront the rent,
Forget the lack of consent,
It was only ever meant,
For the poor to pay the rent.

Today, the NHS,
Is being given away,
And organised money,
Holds sway,

So do be healthy,
Unless your wealthy,
You’ll need a stash,
Of cash,
For a spare room,
Otherwise, it is doom,
And be financially enabled,
Especially if you are disabled?

People have to choose,
What to use,
No time to hesitate,
Whilst food banks proliferate,
Across the state, 

And today,
Shelley’s Castlereagh,
Sidmouth and Eldon,
Includes Jeremy,
That’s Jeremy Hunt,
Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
And fourth great grandson,
Of Lord Eldon,

And slowly,
The mask,
Is stripped away, 
Leaving exposed,
The wreckage,
Of privatised UK,
Nothing changes.

As Shelly said: 

Rise like lions after slumber,
In unvanquished numbers,
Shake your chains to earth like dew,
Which in sleep has fallen on you,
Ye are many – they are few.