Monday, 30 December 2013

money flow

Switching on the money tap
let the money flow
straight into the rich man’s pot
with no where to go

but even the rich can't stop
the careless over fill
as it overflows to sycophants
as payment for the thrill

to the smart fashion houses
jewellers and boutiques
the health farms and gurus
masseurs with technique

trickle down to the high street
and food shops for a spell
then out and back to the farm
where money never dwells

off the the accountants
with the ever counting finger
then nurses cleaners and porters
where never known to linger

back out on the high street
expanding ever more
with loan shops, betting shops
and bingo for the poor

a quick visit to a tea shop
and the burger bar
pubs of wide screen TV
and karaoke bizarre

a long stay in the gutter
where it tends to dwell
with needles pills and potions
feeding private hell

cleaned up by the dealers
looking spick and clean
then back out to the public
via the cash machine

into the car show room
as a deposit on a loan
then used for home mortgage
that the bankers own

from bankers to backhanders
the trickle of little harm
big business in brown envelopes
to grease a sweaty palm

the purchase of a policeman
in case there's a need
for payment to politicians
with motive of pure greed

scandalise political expenses
corrupting what we've got
all the money is needed to
refill the rich man's pot

Sunday, 29 December 2013

farmers year

Thick of head and over hung
The farmer greets the New Year
Contemplating what lies ahead
Through the optimistic fug of beer
.
January will be crisp and dry
The insect will die of cold
And I will get a good price
For store lambs I’ve sold
.
February on Valentines Day
The wife will be true to form
She’ll forgo the silly cards
For fingerless gloves so warm
.
March will be lamming time
Daylight will make them begin
They’ll not thinking of lamming at night
And give birth to healthy twins
.
April showers happen at night
And fall only where needed
It will not fall on barren soil
But only where I just seeded
.
May all fruit blossom will be out
Bees busy pollinating
They will do the fruit trees first
Although rape seed is waiting
.
June of the longest days
Tractors serviced due to mileage
Contract work floods in
After my two cuts of silage
.
July the grass tall and straight
All rain clouds stay away
All the grass is cut and baled
In succulent four day hay
.
August wheat is gathered in
The heating salesman cry
Combine harvester runs all day
And the wheat is storage dry
.
September main crop potatoes
Harvested more than I need
The potato buyers raise the bidding
To use my crop for seed
.
October sheep scab stays away
All sheep eager for the dip
The fruit trees picked and crated up
Delivered in one trip
.
November all cattle snug inside
And feast well on winter store
The air is clean as is the hay
With no bacterial spore
.
December with nights drawn in
And festivities in the air
Christmas trees fetch a good price
All green with no patches bare
.
From the window looking out
The farm track a muddy stream
Sheep call for feed in torrential rain

To shatter his hopeful dream

Friday, 27 December 2013

let my people snow

The arrogant TV weather man
trying to impress
installed mega computers
so he wouldn't have to guess
with his infinite knowledge
his confidence did grow
when the king of CuNim
said let my people snow

Snow said the weather man
feeling not contrite
I've just forecast a sunny spell
without a cloud in sight
let my people snow said CuNim
or trouble will foretell
will I forecast snow to day
will I bloody hell

Then I will have ten plagues for you
and as the plagues will go
I will ask you once again
let my people snow
Bah humbug said the weather man
his arrogance on speed
its just a drop of morning dew
is what my people need

from the weather satellite
with instruments galore
it photographed rivers of red
it had not seen before
frogs, toads and locusts
boils and nipping flies
pestilence and cattle sick
before the viewers eyes

then CuNim in a cursing rage
cursed rain to passover
with floods and hurricane winds
from Muckle Flugga to Dover
the weather man in despair
demanded CuNim to leave
for he was due a few days off
it being Christmas eve

he had planned a warm sunny break
and flying from Heathrow
the last thing that he wanted
was for it to bloody snow
he booked well ahead for Christmas
so his booking was not in doubt
and thought he could still get away
if Gatwick got flooded out

flights were delayed or cancelled
chaos hit Heathrow
again demanded CuNim
let my People snow
I give up said the weather man
wanting a departure norms
get yourself north to Aviemore
snow fill the Cairngorms

that is why we have travel chaos
every wintertime
because or arrogant weathermen
on the news at breakfast time
if you let it snow in the highlands
that's what skiers need
you can do away with the weathermen
and old coasties daft seaweed







Monday, 23 December 2013

school for the poor

Under achieving city school
Improve writing had been the rule
To give a spurt to literacy need
A post box to Santa for him to read
.
Letter of wishes children should write
For delivery on Christmas night
When the school broke up for the winter break
Teachers read and their hearts did ache
.
Few letters either girls or boys
Requesting an increase of the latest toys
In shambling words no more than a scrawl
Pleas from the heart they read them all
.
Stop our visit to auntie’s home
And don’t leave us with uncle alone
Round the bedroom we have to linger
Exposed to his probing wondering fingers
.
Please help mummy I’m not quite sure
If for her drinking there is a cure
When sober she is always tired grumpy
When she’s drunk she’s angry and thumpy
.
Please find a cure for ME
When we get home I have to make tea
Mummy is tired still lying in bed
Crying and wishing that she was dead
.
Please help dad his kidney is failing
Mum’s overworked and constantly wailing
A transplant is needed but there isn’t one free
Why can’t they take one from mummy or me
.
Please find a job for my mum or dad
They’ve spent all the money they once had
They don’t go out and nobody calls
Crying and arguments heard through the walls
.
The contacted community to their surprise
Filled tables of presents, cakes and mince pies
Filling the school with presents galore
Sharing their Christmas in the school of the poor






Friday, 20 December 2013

piety

At ninety years of piety
he was very good
prayed day and night
as they said he should
never did a naughty thing
even if he could

his brother was a rogue
by inclination
indulged in alcohol
and nights of fornication
had a mint invested
as a hedge against inflation

both said a final prayer
seeking absolution
for a life so sinful
an admiral solution
both souls went to heaven
without retribution

some may think this gross unfair
where is justice for a start
but heaven has satisfaction
for your bleeding heart
would you spend an eternity
with a boring pious fart


Saturday, 14 December 2013

cold

The fireplace is cold as ice
The chimney has no soot
No curtains on the window
Floor freezing to the foot
No presents on this Christmas day
The children stay in bed
Mother with her cider jar
Sleeping like she’s dead

Daddy new every week
They never hang around
To watch her humanity
In cheap liquor drown
Welfare state is aware
Though constrain by rules
Cobbled by politician
And followed by fools

Eyes once cried now are dry
The world is grey to see
Between the wanting of food
And passing cruelty
But they have to get up
And slowly up they get
From the soiled bedclothes
They constantly wet

They pray to God but don’t believe
Deliverance from all sin
But they don’t want new parents
Or an orphanage put in
Just one day all heroin
Alcohol and cocaine
Could be pumped into the gutter
Not into her vein

The children venture to her room
Look down on the filthy bed
Stroking her bloodstained hair
And cradling her head
Will she wake this Christmas?
Will she wake up well?
Will she break those habits?
Only time will tell





troublesome son

We have problems with our son she said
‘e’s always grumpy when ‘e gets outta bed
‘e bawls at the others has a right evil mind
It’s as if ‘e ‘aint been taught ‘ow to be kind

‘e miss treats the stock and sheep ‘e ‘ates
Belligerent to farm reps at the farm gate
Speaks kinda negative nothing good to see
From dawn to dusk ‘es a right misery

‘es totally forgot just ‘ow to be pleasant
Always out shooting lame ducks and pheasant
‘is hands is cold and a farmer ‘e’ll never be
Only fit now for the media or gynaecology




Wednesday, 11 December 2013

santa in the dock

Santa is at the Hague
and sadly in the dock
for his financial backers
it came a quite a shock
he seemed such a helpful man
the joviality implied
wished all a merry Christmas
his actions deigned

he failed again with world peace
in a planet full of war
he failed again with bankers
with millions and want more
he failed again with child health
in refugee camps abroad
children die of curable ills
a cure we can afford

he stuffed those Christmas stockings
with toys rich factories made
plastic lifelike machine guns
bullets and hand grenades
gave children uniforms to wear
crisp and full of starch
with Disney tunes and melodies

to teach them how to march

Monday, 9 December 2013

Christmas on the croft

The mice are quite poorly
the rats they are ill
there's a sheep dog at the door
and a cat on the sill
the floor boards are groaning
the stairs start to squeak
the right footed wellie
has just sprung a leak
as another left wellie
is stored in the loft
it's Christmas eve
down on the croft

the presents he's wrapping
and he's doing fine
with the yellow and red
of last years baler twine
he writes in the name
so easy to read
between the bold letters
of certified seed
for her is a present
he thinks it will suit
a new pair of fur lined
pink rigger boots

the children wrote lists
but he'll get them a treat
a new lambing bottle
with red Pritchard teat
as the main present
for his doting wife
a new wooden handled
Opinel knife
he looked through the list
at what name appears
as the grateful recipient
of new dagging shears

he's off to drink sherry
and a carrot to munch
then strangle an old bird
for Christmas day lunch
creeping down to the cellar
of dark webs and spider
he hunts for a barrel
of four year old cider
with a glow in his belly
and haze in the head
he'll fill in the farm survey
of stock that are dead

then off to bed knackered
he'll sleep until three
when the children will scream
He's bin” with glee
there'll be orange in stockings
and chocolate treats
wrapped in coloured paper
and old vat receipts
content with new wellies
the colour so nice
he's off to the field drinkers
to break off the ice
he sings an old rugby song
as happy as can be
because it's Christmas day
on the croft by the sea