There was a mayor, now dead and gone
Who many thought should have a gong.
Then one day to the borough came
A man who had so little shame.
He wanted much to be town clerk
But from his past he could not depart.
Wiley man, he knew the mayor
Also had misdeeds that brought despair.
Their pasts, they agreed, would forever remain
Each others secret so both would gain.
The mayor departed without his gong
The man, he worked and sang his song.
Many an oldie had their garden done
The hand of the new mayor he had won.
But when the residents complained
That the town clerk had mucked up again
And to the new mayor went with tales
She simply promised, smiled, but no betrayls.
Then election time it came
And a new would-be-mayor took the reign.
He promised to keep the borough free
Of interference from the powers that be.
But he had not reckoned upon wiser counsel
That he discovered would dispatch his council.
He left in a hurry for he could not curry
The favour of all of those who were in a flurry.
And then the day came when the borough went
To its great big neighbour, its day spent.
The town clerk too, until it transpired
He was now only a minion and retired.
He went over the hill where the grass grew green
At least for the town clerk, for he had seen
A widow with a bigger pile
And the old new mayor became a file.
She left with hurt and her poetry skills
While the erstwhile town clerk enjoyed his frills.
Then suddenly he became quite sickly
And judgement day came all too quickly.
There is no moral to this story
Merely opportunity to be observatory.