New Year, Old Year

New Year, Old Year

And so the question comes around again,

About hopes and wishes and resolution,

Determinations for another new year,

Or to simply avoid it – that’d be a solution!

 

Whether to create new personal targets,

To set oneself up for yet another fall,

Or be more realistic of weaknesses,

And admit that you’ll fail at them all.

 

As if a New Year creates a new life,

Where things will be different and strange,

Rather than some random point in time,

Invented by humans to mark out a change.

 

It’s just a certain mark in the calendar,

A cold counting of months and of days,

And to track the moon’s movements,

The lunar waxings and wanings of ways.

 

Just cast your mind back to last year -

What were all the things you promised you’d do?

No - I can’t remember them either!

All forgotten – isn’t that true?

 

So what’s the point of doing it all over?

You won’t get any fitter or slimmer,

You probably won’t save any more money -

There isn’t a chance – not a glimmer!

 

Life will continue the way it always does

The only sure things are death and tax,

So just be a little more practical -

Be at peace with yourself - and relax!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Audrey's New Man

Audrey’s New Man

Apparently, Audrey’s got a new man:

She met him via internet dating.

For she’s been far too long on her own,

And it’s time that she got back into mating.

 

On good authority he’s a nice bloke,

Quite chatty and easily amused,

Only one previous relationship,

Almost new, because he’s hardly been used.

 

So - not much renovation to be done,

And little reconstruction needed.

He’s almost ready to be moved in with,

And there are no warnings to be heeded.

 

Yes, Audrey’s very pleased with her new man:

I hope that this time she’s going to be happy.

She’s a bit of a man-eater to be honest -

No-one knows what became of her last chappy!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Things I Didn't Want To Hear

This poem is for a friend whose funeral is today

Things I Didn’t Want To Hear

I’ve heard some things that I didn’t want to hear

And I know some things I wished I didn’t know

Yet I still can’t understand what made you leave us

And why you felt your only choice was to go

 

Whatever led you to that black conclusion

Your thoughts in such desperate strait

That you knew you couldn’t stay around with us

Such a sad, sad, wasteful fate

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Post-Natal Depression

Post Natal Depression (or thank goodness Christmas is all over)

 

They’ve all gone back to work,

And the kids are back at school.

Here I am in the middle of all the mess,

Clearing up like a bloody fool.

 

And as I look around & survey the site,

In the fireplace there’s a fall of soot,

An empty sherry glass & mince-pie crumbs,

And a mark where Santa placed his foot.

 

The carrots we left for his reindeer,

Have been quite nibbled away,

But the droppings on the carpet,

I think is a price too high to pay.

 

There’s paper wrap & discarded boxes,

Where presents were pulled out in their haste,

Played with for half an hour,

Before joining the rest of the waste.

 

There’s food left over in the kitchen,

And I think I’m starting to droop.

If I have to eat one more leftover sprout,

Or face another bowl of turkey soup.

 

The Christmas tree is looking all forlorn,

As its needles drop upon the floor,

And get blown around the house,

Every time someone opens a door.

 

We’ve started our own recycling skip,

With empty bottles of every sort.

It’s not just the beer & the mixers,

But the gin, the vodka and port.

 

We’ve watched all of the Christmas specials

They put on the box this time of the year.

Shame they can’t do it the rest of the season,

Instead of the usual rubbish so drear.

 

We’ve sent home the old relatives

Those aged wonderful old dears.

Now it’s time to take down the greetings cards,

From people we’ve not seen in years.

 

We’ll take down the lights that cover the house.

Our neighbours think that we’re soft.

Yes, we’ll pack up the baubles & lights,

And put them all back in the loft.

 

The sparkle’s all gone from the occasion,

All the drinking & eating & that.

They’ve stopped playing Christmas records on the radio:

At least we can be thankful for that. 

 

Now the shops are full of bargains,

The stuff they just couldn’t shift.

Now’s a good time to stock up for next year,

With every possible gift.

 

I know it’s been quite enjoyable at times,

But now that it’s over for another year,

I’m seeking to get some normality.

So I’ll see you – I’m off down the pub for a beer.

 

Then I’m off to the dump with the recycling,

But I won’t be coming back in a hurry.

I’m not looking forward to dinner -

It’s turkey & cranberry curry.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020 

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 27th December 2020

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 27^th December 2020 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      In a totally unexpected last-minute deal, done at the eleventh hour before midnight on Christmas Eve, out of the jaws of victory, by the skin of the teeth etc etc The Vize’s negotiating team has managed to do a trade deal with Wiltshire.  Full details are yet to emerge, but key concessions have been made by both sides.  D-Town has given up its fishing rights in the K&A canal, accepted quotas for unicorn farming, and agreed to impose sanctions on feral youngsters, whilst Wiltshire has ceded tariffs on the export of commemorative tea-towels, accepted an hourly timetable on the 49 bus-route (Bank Holidays excepted) and agreed to end all controls on the practice of milking chickens.  Free movement of citizens between boroughs will only be allowed on Sundays and alternate Mondays. 

2.      The town, still under Tier 2 Covid restrictions, remains subdued.  Citizens were only abroad on Boxing Day to escape house visitors and the threat of more sprout and turkey curry.  The usual rush to the sales did not materialise however, as people stayed at home to sit in their underwear and order things online from Amazon whilst sucking the life out of the last mince pie.  Even the usual Boxing Day hunt at Lacock took on a thin and grey aspect, once it was revealed that the dog-pack had tested positive for Covid, and most fox families were choosing to stay at home and self-isolate. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

 

Nights Of Terror

Nights Of Terror

It’s several days now since Christmas,

And the danger’s quite close at hand,

For the turkey’s carcase still lives here,

And great fear is stalking the land.

 

The great beast sits there in the fridge,

And has provided for several meals,

But its body continues to shed flesh -

It goes on and on – that’s how it feels!

 

The cold sandwiches with stuffing

Were acceptable on Christmas night,

But then the cold cuts on Boxing Day

Weren’t the most welcome sight.

 

And we just kept on carving and slicing,

Big slices of breast meat, and some of the leg,

But we need relief now from this poultry -

The children, poor mites, have started to beg.

 

Perhaps we shouldn’t have bought such a big bird,

Been more considered, in less of a hurry,

Then we wouldn’t have spent the next five days,

Eating so many portions of turkey curry.

 

We’ve had quite enough of it now,

The pleasure has really started to pall,

And even with bowls-full of turkey soup,

We still can’t get rid of it all!

 

There’s only the bones and skin that are left -

It’s a sight that makes us all queasy.

We’d really like to get rid of the thing,

But it’s a task that’s certainly not easy.

 

For it’s taken up residence in the fridge,

And at my conscience it worries and nips,

And now I’m starting to have nightmares -

Is this the start of a turkey apocalypse?

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

 

The Icing On The Cake

The Icing On The Cake

It was Christmas Eve in the kitchen,

Everything prepared, everything nice.

The turkey was stuffed and the veggies peeled,

So there was only the cake left to ice.

 

But I’d left it to the last minute,

And there wasn’t time to nip to the shop.

It was easy enough to make icing,

But nothing to decorate the top.

 

So my husband went out to his shed,

To see what he might be able to find,

And came back with a jar of ball-bearings,

Saying: “who’s to know? Nobody will mind.”

 

So I washed them and polished them bright,

Though it was all a bit of a fiddle,

And I placed them right round the edges,

With a sprig of holly in the middle.

 

Well, it looked proper champion,

With the large silver balls catching the light.

When my mother-in-law came the next day,

She’d be bound to admire the sight.

 

Well, Christmas Day came, and lovely it was,

We had our dinner, and a good drink,

Then mother-in-law eyed up the cake,

And said: “I’ll have a piece of that I think”.

 

So we both looked, and smothered a smile,

And with a knife I cut her a large slice.

She ate it up quickly and smacked her lips,

Saying: “that was really quite nice!”

 

“I’ll have another piece if you please!”

And that disappeared as fast as the first,

And then we all had a few more drinks,

As we’d all developed a thirst.

 

At this stage we were all stuffed to the gills.

The fire in the grate had burned down quite low,

So mother-in-law picked up the poker,

To stir it around and build up a glow.

 

Now we’d been eating and drinking all day:

Stuffing, and sprouts, and peas that were tinned,

And what with the turkey and the beer,

Well, it were bound to give the girl wind. 

 

As she leaned and bent herself forward,

And, bearing in mind that she were quite fat,

She farted out bearings with incredible force,

And loudly assassinated the cat.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Honey-Roast Gammon Ham

Recipe for: HONEY-ROAST GAMMON HAM 

Ingredients: 

• 2-3kg unsmoked gammon joint, soaked overnight in water
• 1 carrot, halved
• 1 onion, quartered
• 2 celery stalks in chunks
• 1 bay leaf
• 4 thyme sprigs
• 1 tsp black peppercorns
• 100ml honey
• 100g Demerara sugar
• 50ml Madeira
• 3 tblsp soy sauce
• 3 tblsp English mustard
• 2 tblsp Worcestershire sauce
• 50 cloves (to stud) 

Method: 

1. put the drained gammon & vegetables in a large pan & cover with cold water
2. bring to the boil, skimming off any scum
3. add the bay leaf, thyme & peppercorns, then simmer for 2 hours, topping up he water f necessary
4. meanwhile make the glaze: put the sugar & honey in a saucepan & slowly bring to the boil
5. when the mixture starts to foam, remove from the heat & add the Madeira
6. leave to cool slightly, then add the soy, mustard & Worcester sauce. Set aside
7. when the ham is cooked, lift out onto a large roasting tin
8. heat the oven to 170C/ fan 150C/ gas 3
9. using a sharp knife & scissors & fingers, cut the skin of the ham away, leaving an even layer of fat.  Score the fat in a criss-cross pattern.  Stud each diamond with a clove
10. brush the glaze over the ham and roast/ bake for another hour, basting frequently
11. when browned, set aside to rest for 15 minutes before carving

 

The Theft Of Baby Jesus

The Theft Of Baby Jesus

There’s always some-one who goes too far,

Whose judgement seems somewhat defective,

Getting Christmas all out of proportion,

And losing their sense of perspective.

 

The bloke in our village was one of these:

Went over the top for Noel-time tradition,

Thought the number of lights on his house,

Was some sort of yearly competition.

 

He had everything on display,

Such a mess, it was really a sin:

A complete mish-mash of every sort,

Every blessed thing that you might imagine.

 

There was Santa with all twelve of his reindeer,

Delivering presents piled up on his sleigh.

It took so many bulbs to light up this scene,

You’d have thought night had turned into day.

 

There were snow-men and snow-women,

Cartoon characters, the holly and ivy,

Illustrations of every blessed carol,

And tunes in a tape-loop to keep it all lively.

 

This guy was more than a fanatic -

Of under-statement there was no danger:

And his central tableau showed a great star,

Hovering over the scene in the manger.

 

There were Mary & Joseph in the stable,

With the Holy Infant, shepherds and then,

A hovering Angel of The Lord,

And a gathering of the three wise men.

 

And there were great piles of presents,

As if no detail could be allowed to pass,

Every type of farm-yard animal,

Not merely the ox and the ass.

 

A twenty-foot Christmas tree capped off the scene,

Which became a local attraction,

And the passing traffic became so bad,

That we decided we had to take action.

 

A group of us hatched our plot in the pub,

Which is not the best place to think straight,

But it seemed a good idea at the time,

When we’d had a few, and the hour got late. 

 

The plan was to hit him where it hurt,

Something to make that daft bugger feel.

We were going to remove Baby Jesus,

Yes! – the Son of Man we plotted to steal.

 

We decided we’d hold Him to ransom,

And that, as the fruit of our labours,

He’d then scale down the size of his display,

And we’d be the toast of his neighbours.

 

We thought it’d be the simplest of raids,

To sneak in among that barrage of light,

To just steal the youthful Son of Man,

And disappear back into the night.

 

But we counted without so many wires,

That would cause us so many glitches -

The complex inter-connectedness,

The circuits and timers and switches.

 

Electricity don’t mix with stupidity –

We were pissed (to use the vernacular),

And as we made our grab for the infant,

The meltdown was truly spectacular.

 

Our theft was far from deft,

Taking the hostage created a ruction.

The air became blue, as the fuses all blew,

And that was the end of abduction.

 

The lights went out all over the house,

As the circuits became overloaded,

And there was a short-term glow in the sky,

As the whole of the creation exploded.

 

Then in the street and the village,

There was an end to illumination.

It carried on all down the valley,

And finally blew up the sub-station.

 

It was a case of a simple crime gone wrong,

And in later years, folks were heard to say,

It made a great change from the usual -

The most spectacular one-off display!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

In The Bleak MIdwinter

In The Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter

Thirsty men made moan

Pubs stood closed and empty

Let out a small groan

Groans had fallen

Groan on groan

In the bleak midwinter,

Recently

 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

The Holly & The Ivy

The Holly &The Ivy

The Lockdown and the tiering

Have both become boring

And all the repeats showing on TV

Have left us all snoring 

(refrain)

O, the coming of the vax

And the lifting of each tier

The gath’ring in our Christmas bubbles

Should bring us all some cheer 

The Covid bears a burden

So hard with many deaths

And NHS sweet Jesus Christ

Has seen many last breaths 

O, the coming of the vax

And the lifting of each tier

The gath’ring in our Christmas bubbles

Should bring us all some cheer 

Our folly meant a Lockdown

As hard as any stood

And washing hands sweet Jesus Christ

Did us poor sinners good 

O, the coming of the vax

And the lifting of each tier

The gath’ring in our Christmas bubbles

Should bring us all some cheer 

Our jolly Christmas has gone

Social distance the norm

And now New Year sweet Jesus Christ

Will consist of the same form 

O, the coming of the vax

And the lifting of each tier

The gath’ring in our Christmas bubbles

Should bring us all some cheer

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 20th December 2020

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 20^th December 2020 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:                                              

1.      Last week’s hopes of being able to emerge from the Lockdown as the Covid 19 vaccine was rolled out were dashed again this week, as it was revealed that a new strain of the virus (locally known as Gotcha!) has begun to spread.  Accordingly the Town Council; has now announced a new 27-tier system of lockdown, and The Vize will go into Tier 13b, subsection v, sub-sub-section 3 from midnight.  No mixing of households will be allowed, bringing cheers of relief from the Collective of Hen-Pecked Husbands, saved at a stroke this year from having to endure Christmas dinner with their outlaws, weird cousin Sarah, dribbling and racist grand-parents, and their step-mother’s new squeeze. 

2.      A stricter regime of enforcement has also been announced.  Apart from Covid-finder Generals, inspectors and tactical armed police squads, there will be road-blocks, intimate body searches, and a wide range of permits and licences.  Snipers will be posted on rooftops to pick off those citizens who dare to venture out without the right documentation.  Searchlights and gun batteries will be positioned to shoot down any attempted escapes by air, and the canal will be patrolled by the police submarine.  All the tunnels under the town will be guarded.  Strict rationing of turkey twizzlers, Pringles and pot noodles will be introduced.  The mayor then wished everyone a Merry Christmas. 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

O Come All Ye Faithful

O Come All Ye Faithful

O come, all ye drinkers, thirsty and expiring

O come ye, o come ye to Wetherspoons

O come and try Doombar, brewed the worst of all worlds

O come, let us not drink it

O come, let us not sink it

O come, let us ignore it

Christ that’s awful!

 

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers to Wetherspoons

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers to Wetherspoons

 

O sing, choirs of piss-heads, sing right out of tune

O come, o come ye to Wetherspoons

O Come and try Greene King, even worse than Doombar

O come, let us not buy it

O come, let us not try it

O come, let us avoid it

Christ that’s the pits!

 

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers to Wetherspoons

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers

O come, all ye drinkers to Wetherspoons 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

While Shepherds Watched

While Shepherds Watched

While people washed their hands by night,

All seated on the ground,

Matt Hancock of TV came down,

And passed some soap around.

 

"Fear not," said he, for mighty dread

Had seized their troubled mind;

"Glad tidings of great joy I bring

To you and all mankind."

 

"To you, in Devizes town this day,

Is given of Pfizer’s line

A vaccine that will save you all,

And this shall be the sign:

 

In the Corny Bin you shall find

Of people a great queue,

All waiting quietly their turn

Yes – many, not a few.”

 

Thus spake Goverment, and forthwith

Anti-vaxxers fell dumb

For they had little more to say

Of comfort not a crumb

 

"All glory be to Gove on high

And in The Vize be peace.

Goodwill now from Wiltshire to men

Hope Tier Two can soon cease." 

 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Colcannon

 Recipe for: COLCANNON 

Ingredients: 

• 600g maincrop potatoes, washed & peeled
• 100g salted butter
• 1 large onion, or a bunch of spring onions, peeled & chopped
• 1 large head of kale or cabbage, cored, stalks removed, chopped & washed 

Method: 

1. cut the potatoes into cubes & put them into cold water
2. bring to the boil, then simmer for 10-15 minutes until tender
3. drain well & leave in pan to steam a little
4. mash & keep warm
5. meanwhile, melt the butter in another pan & gently fry the onions until soft but not browned
6. add the kale or cabbage & a splash of water
7. cook until tender & the water has evaporated
8. add the mashed potatoes to the mix & season
9. add a small knob of butter & serve 

What else you need to know: 

1. you can add scraps of bacon or ham if liked
2. in the Hebrides, this is known as rumbledethumps

Once In Royal Wootton Bassett

Once In Royal Wootton Bassett

Once in Royal Wootton Bassett

Stood a lowly reindeer shed,

Where a con-man hid his presents

In a sack upon his sled:

Santa was that driver mild,

Jesus Christ but he was wild.

 

He came down the road to Devizes,

To the Market Place one day

And his shelter was a cafe

And his table by the way

With the poor, and mean, and needy,

And some urchins that were greedy

 

And our eyes at last shall see him

Red trousers and a false beard

Twinkling eye and a “yo ho ho”

Parents be ye quite afeard

For he leads your children on

First he’s here and then he’s gone

 

Promises the Earth, then he goes

With his helpers standing by

We’ll next see him when in prison

Given six months for being high

And drink-driving on a sleigh

We’d best send him on his way!

 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Hark The Thirsty People Sing

Hark The Thirsty People Sing

Hark! the thirsty people sing

Muffled in their masky things

Your pleadings have us beguiled

Tier two’s driving us quite wild!

Joyless, all ye drinkers rise

Join the chorus of our sighs

With the boozing host proclaim

Substantial meal’s a poor game!

Hark! the thirsty people sing

Drinking freely is the thing!

 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Ding Dong Merrily On High

Ding Dong Merrily

Ding dong merrily on high

The Pfizer vaccine’s ready

Let’s hope that we don’t die

And that the queuing’s steady

Gloria

Let Covid-19 do one!

Gloria

Let Covid-19 do one!

 

E'en so here below, below,

Let steeple bells get ringing

For hello, hello, hello,

That arm-full’s really stinging

Gloria

Let Covid-19 do one!

Gloria

Let Covid-19 do one!

 

Pray you, dutifully wait

Your place in line for jabs

May you have no side-effects

Hope’s done right in the labs

Gloria

Let Covid-19 do one!

Gloria

Let Covid-19 do one!

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 13th December 2020

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 13^th December 2020

 

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:

                                              

1.      The first sighs of relief were heard in the borough this week as 127-year old local resident Mr Benny Fitt was given the first of his two Covid vaccinations.  Meanwhile, over in California, Mr Bill Gates spent a happy day watching and controlling his first victim.  This included Mr Fitt watching TV for most of the day, going for a pee about six times, and having egg and chips for his tea.  It is not yet known how Mr Gates intends to use this new power, or how he will cope will the influx of thousands of new injectees over the next few weeks.  Let’s just hope he’s not using Excel spreadsheets to control his Empire.

 

2.      But such unbounded joy was tempered by bad news on the Drexit front.  Despite a last-ditch, 11^th-hour, skin-of-the-teeth intervention by the Council leader to rescue the failing talks with the WU (Wiltshire Union) by going out with the WU’s female leaderene for a fish and chip supper.  Huge differences still remain between the two sides over such issues as the role of mushy peas on the plate, red or brown sauce on the chips, and whether the salt or the vinegar should go on first.  There were further differences of opinion on who should pay for future fish and chips, opening times for chip shops, and the calorific value and gourmet status of battered sausages.

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

 

Good KIng Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslas was locked down

On the Feast of Stephen

But the Scotch Eggs had run out

Deep-fried, crisp and even

Brightly shone his eyes that night

For substantial meals

But Spoons nearby hove in sight

Off’ring Rishi’s deals

 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

God rest ye merry gentlemen

Don’t let Covid you dismay

Remember a new vaccine

Was given you this day

To save us all from Lockdown’s power

When we were locked away

O bollox to tiers two and three

Two and three

O bollox to tiers two and three

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Escape From The Zoo

Escape From The Zoo

It was nearly midnight in the zoo,

And hardly a creature was stirring.

The lions and tigers were fast asleep:

All you could hear was their snoring and purring.

 

All except for the armadillos,

For they are nocturnal you see,

And on the inside of the compound,

Is not where they wanted to be.

 

They’d started digging three tunnels,

But had only managed to create holes,

So they’d done a deal with some of their friends,

And drafted in an army of moles.

 

Construction went on almost constantly,

But, of course, it was safer by night,

And there was only a hundred yards left,

Before they could say good-bye and take flight.

 

But the zoo-keepers became suspicious,

Realising that not all was still fine,

For leading away from the enclosure,

They spotted ten molehills all in a line

 

Next night they suddenly swooped,

And moved the armadillos to a new pen,

Where the floor was made of strong concrete,

Saying “let’s see you get out of that then!”

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Dishwasher Blues - An Indesit Proposal

Dishwasher Blues – an Indesit proposal

You stand against the wall of my kitchen

Just waiting for my full attention

You’re neat, and you’re closely fitted

What we get up to, I hardly dare to mention

 

I gaze in fascination at your features

And I know which buttons I have to press

To produce an active performance

Which excites me, I have to confess

 

Your equipment is delightful to see

Your racks and your rotating arms

Drive me to frenzies of anticipation

You’re my magic cupboard of charms

 

I don’t have to scrape or rinse for you

You can deal with what’s really dirty

You always give me satisfaction

And make me feel frisky and so flirty

 

I thrust in my massive load

My equipment is sturdy and strong

I love turning you on twice daily

And I’m glad it’s me to whom you belong

 

My eyes twinkle as you display all of your lights

You start gushing and squirting your juices

Within your lovely hot, moist box

Steamy and soapy through all of your sluices

 

You work hard when you’re so turned on

Soaking and rinsing whatever’s sticky

I love that you’re my salty wet dishy

Without you, life would be boring and tricky

 

And when your exertions are finally all over

When you’re finished, but still steamy hot

There’s no residues for me to worry about

No wiping needed, and what-not

 

Soon everything’s dry that was wet

So I can gently remove what was inserted

And put it all back where it belongs

So I’m happy, yet feeling hardly exerted

 

Now I can’t do without you, my dishy

I confess I don’t want to be like the rest of the band

Having to make my own arrangements

And forced to do everything by hand

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Inns And Out

Inns And Out

The swinging sign is rusty on its hinges

Creaking out its song of woe

Where have all the drinkers gone?

No-one seems to know

 

The White Bear paces in its lonely cage

The Pelican cannot even flap a wing

The Southgate’s garden’s so deserted

And performers there no longer sing

 

The Cavalier has lost his vim and dash

The Moonrakers cannot rake for cheese

The Castle’s all shut and bolted

What are we to make of these?

 

We can’t get slaughtered in The Lamb

The Three Crowns have lost their glitter

The Vaults and Snuffbox shuttered up

And you’re surprised that we’re getting bitter?

 

The British no longer flies its flag

It’s the worst of all our fears

We said no good would come of this

And now it’s ended all in Tiers

 

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

Ordinary People

Ordinary People

 

They go to the supermarket

Pick up their children from school

Sit down to their teas in the kitchen

Then watch some evening TV

 

Sitcoms and serials the usual

Channel-hopping to find something cheerful

Chat shows and game shows

Perhaps ignoring the News

 

Sometimes they go to the pub

Have a chat with their friends

Or go off to the football

If City are playing at home

 

They’re married, and have been for years

A nice little house in the street

Maybe a car parked right there outside

And a garden to sit out when it’s fine

 

They have their worries, of course

And which of us can say that they don’t?

With prices going up it seems daily

Yet no pay-rise again on the cards

 

And when they’re in town on a week-day

They go into cafes and shops

Buy a lucky dip for the Lottery

And hope there’s a change in their luck

 

They sit right next to you on the bus

In the morning when they travel to work

And listen in to their music

To help make the time pass

 

They don’t look any different

Just ordinary people in so many ways

Nothing to make them stand out in the crowd

Or to show that they’re anything special

 

They don’t appear to be evil

Or look like marked criminal types

But what they get up to on their computers

Sets them apart from the rest

 

Their viewing and chatting and grooming

Goes on sometimes late into the night

But when you talk to them next morning

You’d never tell them apart from your mates

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020