The Weekly Muse

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The Independent Culture
Early flowers the cherry-plum

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?

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