Oh what a day that will be

Oh what a day that will be

 

When the Tories are out and Margaret’s a goner

And Wimbledon F.C. buy Diego Maradona

When they arrest the Queen and drugs are found on her

Oh what a day that will be

When Murdoch’s riches are converted to rags

When you don’t die young from smoking fags

And we all have the chance of afternoon shags

Oh what a day that will be

When the worst you can get is a dose of the clap

The day Palestine appears on a map

When Jeffrey Archer says what I write is crap

When being black is no longer a crime

And the condom slides on (pop) first time

And when Nigel Lawson crawls back to the slime

Oh there’ll be a day to remember

When the Berlin wall has got no bricks

And when men don’t measure the size of their dicks

When Sylvester Stallone weighs 7 stone six

When High Court judges don’t countenance rape

And we’re not so tight-arsed that a fart can’t escape

Then its time for Batman to hang up his cape

Oh what a day that will be

Oh yes

Oh what a day that will be

 

A Poem – November 2012

November 2012

Pulling up after the wedding reception

they see her, their neighbor,

standing in the street.

She is looking, she says,

for a lift to her home in London.

‘Hazel,’ they tell her,

‘you live here in this house.’

The door is open.

They take her in

and see she has packed a bag,

(if a jumper and a biscuit count as packing)

Oh Hazel,

It is 35 years since you left London

to live, as you said, ‘in the shires’.

but she is still

within you

the grammar school girl

from Loughborough Junction

kissing sailors and dancing

In Trafalgar Square.

It is VE day

and the rest of the century

Is yours.