The people of Sunderland have been making Brexit
for thirty years. On an abandoned airfield from the War
they built a factory for Brexit. It is haunted by the ghosts
of fallen airmen, who walk, goggled and helmeted,
among the robot-assisted assembly lines of Brexit.
Many of the workforce are proud to drive a Brexit.
They know the ones they built themselves, each one custom made,
every colour, trim, and engine size of Brexit. Just in time
they build them, the sub-assemblies trucked in hour by hour,
bolting on the headlamps and the hubcaps of Brexit.
Every household knows it depends on Brexit;
the component-makers’ families know it too.
They will not bite the hand that feeds them. They know that Brexit
has transformed this run-down town. From Port of Tyne
a fleet of ro-ro ferries exports shining rows of Brexit.
What would Sunderland be, if not for Brexit?
All the young people hope it will furnish their careers –
apart from the ones who try out for the football team.
There’s seven thousand jobs for life; five shifts and office work.
So many dreams and aspirations all tied up with Brexit.
The people don’t believe in the end of Brexit.
It is their meat and drink, their mortgages and clothes.
Look at all the investment the Brexiters have made!
That proves the commitment to this town from Brexit.
We live the life we want, and we choose Brexit.