Oh the Times they are a changing
As we find Jerry Hicks arranging
His recent political affiliations
To fit in with his new relations.
What strange times in which we live
When Tory Sundays seem to give
Space to all with an axe to grind
But maybe they're of a same mind.
The times he thundered at a husting
I'm sure he felt his wee heart busting
Spurred on by his comrades clapping
Gone are his words into fish supper wrapping.
This false thunderer's time will come
And as with all rats and assorted scum
May he long suffer plagues and the pox
And the same applies to all the Murdochs. 
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