Dig that chunnel

Four slaughters back, Napoleon one

Exclaimed to Fox, Charles James, the Whig

'By Amiens! (and the peace to come),

Ensemble, la Manche, we'll infra dig.'

Charles James-the-Fox was happy to

Invoke the corporal's timely geste.

Mathieu-Favier, his prints in blue,

Prepared the plans at his behest.

But war, like winter, fog-filled came,

To isolate the continent.

Martellos, Corsican in name,

Glared at the Corsican intent.

From eighteen-two to nineteen-four

Prosper Payerne and De Gamond,

Français to their Borin Core,

Unfurled their plans to Anglo-Mammon.

The Consort Albert, William Low,

Hawkshaw, Gladstone - quibble on row:

Was England safe against the foe?

Was England then? Is England now?

Sir Archibald, named Alison,

Resolved the English arguments,

'From tunnel's end, in echelon,

Will pour the Froggie's regiments.'

In nineteen-seven, in thirty-three,

Through Adolph's Kampf and Ballyhoo

By bridge and seamless tubery

Suspension ruled but never glue.

Come yesterday, come sixty, went -

Uncommonly, for common crumbs,

the heath(en) Tories - Brussels bent

Large tunnels call for larger sums.

Le General, like Cap Gris Nez,

Nasally intoned his 'No'....

...The fog came down on Dover Bay

...Devon ghosts grinned on Plymouth Hoe.