Category: poetry

Mary and Joseph

Mary

She pulled her shawl tighter around her
A mother should never have to outlive her child
Be there at the beginning and the end

She thought about her ex
A gentle man, good with his hands
Who never questioned her unexpected pregnancy
There’s nothing more working class, he’d laughed
Than giving birth in a barn

She pulled her shawl tighter around her
And remembered the starlight
The smell of fresh hay
And the warm comfort of the animals
On the day that he was born

Joseph

I’d have made a better job of that manger
He watched over his new-born son
One day, when he’s older
I’ll teach him to saw straight and to nail true
To value form as much as function
And be the master of his craft

But it wasn’t to be

They couldn’t survive the recriminations
Should they have kept him from the temple?
Who put those revolutionary ideas in his head?

He thought about her in the starlight
The smell of fresh hay
And the warm comfort of the animals
On the day that he was born

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The Man Who Built The Burning House

The man who built the burning house
rubs his hands, his fingers laced
The order for a million more
is ready to be placed

He flexes fists and wrists
like he’s choking the supply
He knows the tricks that keep demand
and profit-making high

New homes for all, the promises
of ministers and kings
The man who built the burning house
is waiting in the wings

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Henry and the Tractors

Henry parked his tractor in Whitehall
Turned to the camera to explain
My lifestyle is under threat, he said
It’s causing my accountant great pain

The only way to farm this land, he said
Is if your father was a farmer too
And if your granddad owned it before him
Then farming’s what you’re born to do

Like being a millionaire, I thought
The bit that was going unsaid
Why’s the right to own and work the land
Restricted to the born and bred?

Henry and the tractors were holding up traffic
Like Just Stop Oil in tweed caps
Barbour coats and green wellies
A Reform UK uniform, perhaps

Like mustard-trousered Farage
Defending the interests of his class
Henry parked his tractor in Whitehall
What a fucking arse

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A Better Mousetrap, Part 3

Build a better mousetrap, people said
And the world will beat a path to your door
So, we built a better mousetrap, like they said
And the fat cats beat a path to our door

People bought our mousetrap, happy to choose
Between a cheaper, worser mousetrap
And a dearer, better mousetrap
That everyone was giving rave reviews

The fat cats were happy, ‘cause they had shares
In our mousetrap firm, but also in theirs
It turns out that moneymen never have to choose
If you have shares in everything, you never lose

But one day they said, those worse mousetraps
You’re gonna have to sell them for more
And the firm that makes the better mousetraps
Will have to make them cheaper than before

Mousetraps soon were all the same price
And none of them were very good at catching mice
But in the boardroom, there was little concern
The fat cats were getting a better return

Now people often could be heard to say
Mousetraps were so much better in my day
Now a mousetrap doesn’t even do what it says
And everything’s just so expensive nowadays

We told the fat cats that people were sad
With worse and better mousetraps both
The fat cats said, well they really should be glad
Because we’ve given them economic growth

Economic growth, they said’s of high import
That’s why it’s always daily in the news
That bit that you ignore just before the sport
It’s the measure that all governments use

Economic growth, that’s all well and good
Economic growth, well that’s nice
But if economic growth is so important
How come it only benefits the mice?

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The River

The river slapped against the dock,
unpleasantly,
incessantly.

We stood under the bridge
where Walworth once
had Tyler’s head displayed.
A revolt betrayed
by a misplaced faith in kings.

It’s not enough, she said,
to pull men from the river.
We must also go upstream
to see who pushed them in.

Upstream, the palace,
its sunlit terraces,
its privileged view.
We knew.
As Tyler before us knew too.

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Good King Amesbury

The moon shone bright, the frost was cruel
He lived a good league hence
But here to gather winter fuel
Lest he should burn the forest fence

When Wenceslas he did espy
And cried out Sire, why walk you by
And no longer bring me pine logs hither
Ye, who would bless the poor
A Christian man, good and sure
Whose allowance he’s content to wither

Wenceslas, full of grace
Struck the peasant in the face
Then struck again as he lay prone
Admonishing, leave me alone

Therefore, English men be sure
Without rank possessing
Question Wenceslas’s care
And you’ll receive his blessing

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Tina and the Big Lie

Tina believed the Big Lie
Now Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
Tina broke into the voting machine
To try to prove that Donald’s hands were clean
But Donald’s hands are dirty as hell
Now Tina’s hands are dirty as well
And Tina’s gonna have to let time go by
‘Cause Tina believed the Big Lie

(Full story)

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Sir Kier’s New Clothes

A cloth so beautiful, he said
I’ll weave for you, Sir Kier
That to the simple or unfit
Invisible ‘t will appear

These splendid clothes, I just must have
What do they cost, pray tell
To you it’s free, the Baron said
‘N’ I’ll dress your wife as well

He set up looms and set to work
Weaving night and day
And yet the golden thread they brought
He simply put away

Kier sent a spad to view the cloth
It’s gorgeous, he announced
Seeing nothing, but for fear
That he might be denounced

His Chief of Staff gave equal praise
Lest she be seen unfit
The most magnificent I’ve seen
Was all she dared submit

And so, Sir Kier came to view
This cloth beyond compare
The best design I ever wove
The Baron did declare

It surely is, Sir Kier agreed
Though there was nowt to see
Neither simple nor unfit
Could he be seen to be

So pleased he seemed that no one dared
To baulk or disagree
And the Baron was rewarded
With a Westminster Palace key

He sewed all night by candlelight
His scissors keen and steady
Cut unseen cloth, and as dawn broke
He cried, Kier’s suit is ready

Your trousers, he presented
Your jacket and your tie
So light, like wearing nothing
Oh, how splendid, the reply

Upon the people, he processed
How beautiful, they cooed
And not a soul dared suggest
Sir Kier was in the nude

Until a child’s voice, young Owen
The crowd all heard his call
Sir Kier, I declare is wearing
Not a thing at all

Listen to the child, they said
Sir Kier’s glamour gone
But there was nothing for it
So, he, naked, just marched on

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PMQ’s in His Underpants

Kier’s half-naked and freezing
There is no budget for clothes
PMQ’s in his underpants
And even his wife bought those

Nobody thought to tell him
There’s no shirts on the public purse
You need a rich donor for clothing
Or it’s just boxers or worse

Kier’s half-naked and freezing
Because of the bribe he ignored
PMQ’s in his underpants
It’s all the clothes we can afford

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A Two Grand Hat

A two grand hat made out of bears
Is what the British foot guard wears
It’s stupid, cruel, just not funny
And a massive waste of money

While Rachel says we can’t afford
For winter fuel to be restored
And Auntie freezes in her flat
The guardsman wears a two grand hat

A two grand hat made out of bears
Hunted, shot and trapped in snares
Stupid, cruel and just not funny
And makes guards faint when it gets sunny

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