The Weekly Muse

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To Beachy Head, a nice spring day,

The threat of summer on the way;

A bit of grease, a powerful jack -

The Belle Tout Lighthouse shunted back,

Delivered from the ravening seas

While picnickers eat bread and cheese.

It's nothing Cecil B De Mille,

Just brilliant engineering skill,

A Goon-Show madness so complete

Which shifts the lighthouse 50 feet.

We're going into Europe now,

So climb aboard the wagon.

Regardez Mme Cresson

(The one who's got the fag on)...

I felt I should write something

But didn't want to bore you,

So here in French and English

A two-verse crammer for you:

Est-ce que le dentiste

De Mme Edith Cresson

Est encore sur le payroll?

Voici la premiere lecon.

Another thing with Europe,

When drafting fraud-proof laws,

No matter what they tell you,

There ain't no Santer clause.

Home Rule for Yorkshire? Possibly,

If certain zealots get their way

And Yorkshire wins its thridings back.

Then Batley shall be free one day,

Since if God is a Yorkshireman

And not from Essex as I fear

Perhaps he'll lead his people home

To whippets, wickets, northern beer

And other stuff not found down here.

Sir Cliff: "I'm Tony's Holy Man."

And: "Mrs Blair's a long-term fan."

Make of this, reader, what you can.

Millennial Merlin/Peter Pan?

Or comfy Christian cardigan

For happy-clappy Labour clan?

He's coming home, he's coming home,

He's coming, Noakes is coming home.

Lured back from Spain, first time in years,

A grateful nation moved to tears

As ITV spend more and more

To try and win the ratings war.

Those golden memories - Shep the dog,

The railway to Ffestiniog...

It's such a huge thing in our lives.

We went with Noakes. (So did our wives.)