The rampage

The rampage of arson.

Was he born in a garrison?
Or perhaps inside a prison?

He was nobody’s Godson,
Nor any body’s grandson!

The constant comparison,
Turned his face crimson!

He couldn’t learn a lesson,
Nor would listen to reason!

It was always the season,
For indulging in treason;

All he needed was a mansion,
But roamed around like a bison;

If only he could jettison,
The fumes of mental poison,

He could become a good person,
A good mason-even if not a parson.

(Inspired by the recent London riots)