To tell the lie that spring has come,
But shivers when the gale blows
As down the slope the blossom snows,
Across the street, caressing cars,
And sows the gutter pink with stars,
Which makes the local sage avow,
"It's staying lighter, daarker now."
I wondered loudly as a clone
Went thundering down the bridleway
On BMX, without a bell,
"How safe are country walks today?"
A flock of ramblers striding past
Replied to me, "They're pretty good.
It's taken only fifty years
But now we have the rights, we could
Go almost anyway we want
To get to anywhere we like.
The problem is, young Warren here
Can also get there on his bike."
Another Brit balloon comes down
And adds a tad to our renown
Who boldly go like Captain Kirk,
"To find new ways that do not work".
In genteel Berkshire - no, don't laugh -
They say they cannot get the staff,
The plumber, chippie and the spark,
To fix the bog, the door or dark.
Since Labour made us middle class
We can't repair a pane of glass
Or mend a U-bend on the sink.
It might be time to have a think
And train some of these kids of ours
In laying bricks or fitting showers
Before new "Labour's" fine facade
Collapses in its own backyard.
What is that distant cheering sound?
Why are those bankers dancing round?
Herr Lafontaine - for it is he -
Clears out his desk, only to see
The euro, which was lately down,
Rise from its bed and mince to town,
An insult heaped on injury,
While Gerhard Schroder on TV
Swears blind he'll miss his finance chief
But can't disguise his own relief.
The other day I got the fare
To take a cab which wasn't there
To catch a non-existent train,
Which wasn't there today again
To meet the non-existent bus...
Is Prescott mad or is it us?Reuse content