Friday Poetry Corner

[PRC1964]

Ah, the Pogues are good too, but here's some patriotism from Ian Dury:

(spoken intro.)
This one’s for Julie, who we love
I love her almost as I do Alma
But we don’t do Alma no more
It’s called ‘England’s Glory’. if you wanna sing
Please sing

There are jewels in the crown of England's glory
And every jewel shines a thousand ways

Frankie Howerd, Noël Coward and garden gnomes
Frankie Vaughan, Kenneth Horne, Sherlock Holmes
Monty, Biggles and Old King Cole
In the pink or on the dole
Oliver Twist and Long John Silver
Captain Cook and Nelly Dean
Enid Blyton, Gilbert Harding
Malcolm Sargeant, Graham Greene (Graham Greene)

All the jewels in the crown of England's glory
Too numerous to mention, but a few
And every one could tell a different story
And show old England's glory something new

Nice bit of kipper and Jack the Ripper and Upton Park
Gracie, Cilla, Maxy Miller, Petula Clark
Winkles, Woodbines, Walnut Whips
Vera Lynn and Stafford Cripps
Lady Chatterley, Muffin the Mule
Winston Churchill, Robin Hood
Beatrix Potter, Baden-Powell
Beecham's powders, Yorkshire pud (Yorkshire pud)

With Billy Bunter, Jane Austen
Reg Hampton, George Formby
Billy Fury, Little Titch
Uncle Mac, Mr. Pastry and all
Uncle mac, Mr. Patry and all

allright england?
g’wan england
oh england

All the jewels in the crown of England's glory
Too numerous to mention, but a few
And every one could tell a different story
And show old England's glory something new

Somerset Maugham, Top Of The Form with the Boys' Brigade
Mortimer Wheeler, Christine Keeler and the Board of Trade
Henry Cooper, wakey wakey, England's labour
Standard Vanguard, spotted dick, England's workers
England's glory

[EternalOptimist]

Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.
And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.
For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.
But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.
And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask meself the same question.
But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

[EternalOptimist]

I got two legs
from my @rse to the ground
and when I move em I walk around
and when I lift em I climb the stairs
and when I shave em they aint got hairs

[anally retentive]

"had a love affair with Nina
in the back of my Cortina
a seasoned up hyena
could not have been more obscener
she took me to the cleaners
and other misdemeanours
but I got right up between her
rum and her Ribena"

Ah . . . happy days!

"good evening, i'm from essex
in case you couldn't tell
my gven name is dickie
i come from billericay
and i'm doin'.....
very well"

"oh golly, oh gosh, come lie on the couch
with a nice piece of tosh from burnham-on-crouch
i aint's a bloomin' thickie
i'm billericay dickie
and i ain't.....
no slouch!"

they don't make 'em like that any more! seriously, i was a huge ian dury fan, actually as much for the blockheads as anything. they were all top-notch session musos and if you listen to them quite apart from the lyrics, the songs would still be great.....

[wobbegong]

ian dury was ace, wasn't he? "billericay dickie" was my favourite....

"had a love affair with Nina
in the back of my Cortina
a seasoned up hyena
could not have been more obscener
she took me to the cleaners
and other misdemeanours
but I got right up between her
rum and her Ribena"

Ah . . . happy days!

[where did my id go?]

changed my mind

[anally retentive]

I could be a poet I wouldn't need to worry
I could be a poster on the CUK website
I could be a Blair lieing through my teeth
I could be a teacher in a classroom full of scholars,
I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs.

What a waste, what a waste, what a waste, what a waste.

Because I chose to play the fool in a six-piece band
first-night nerves every one-night stand
I should be glad to be so inclined, what a waste! what a waste!

But I don't mind.

I could be a lawyer with stratagems and ruses
I could be a doctor with poultices and bruises
I could be a writer with a growing reputation,
I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station.

What a waste.

I could be the catalyst that sparks the revolution,
I could be an inmate in a long-term institution
I could dream to wide extremes
I could do or die

I could yawn and be withdrawn and watch the world go by.
What a waste

ian dury was ace, wasn't he? "billericay dickie" was my favourite....

[angusglover]

I like that...

[AlfredJPruffock]

I never was a poet....

I could be a poet I wouldn't need to worry
I could be a poster on the CUK website
I could be a Blair lieing through my teeth
I could be a teacher in a classroom full of scholars,
I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs.

What a waste, what a waste, what a waste, what a waste.

Because I chose to play the fool in a six-piece band
first-night nerves every one-night stand
I should be glad to be so inclined, what a waste! what a waste!

But I don't mind.

I could be a lawyer with stratagems and ruses
I could be a doctor with poultices and bruises
I could be a writer with a growing reputation,
I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station.

What a waste.

I could be the catalyst that sparks the revolution,
I could be an inmate in a long-term institution
I could dream to wide extremes
I could do or die

I could yawn and be withdrawn and watch the world go by.
What a waste

[angusglover]

Roses are red
Violets are twisted
Bend over luv
Your about to get fisted....


I never was a poet....

[Burdock]

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he.

"The Copper Bosses killed you Joe,
they shot you Joe" says I.
"Takes more than guns to kill a man"
Says Joe "I didn't die"
Says Joe "I didn't die"

And standing there as big as life
and smiling with his eyes.
Says Joe "What they can never kill
went on to organize,
went on to organize"

From San Diego up to Maine,
in every mine and mill,
where working-men defend their rights,
it's there you find Joe Hill,
it's there you find Joe Hill!

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he.

[AlfredJPruffock]

Dedicated to the Loving Memory of our dear friend Fleet



Wake up you sleepy head

Put on some clothes, shake up your bed
Put another log on the fire for me

Ive made some breakfast and coffee
Look out my window what do I see
A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me

All the nightmares came today
And it looks as though theyre here to stay

What are we coming to ???
No room for me, no fun for you
I think about a world to come
Where the books were found by the golden ones

Written in pain
Written in awe
By a puzzled man who questioned
What we were here for

All the strangers came today
And it looks as though theyre here to stay

Oh you pretty things (oh you pretty things)
Dont you know youre driving your
Mamas and papas insane
Oh you pretty things (oh you pretty things)
Dont you know youre driving your
Mamas and papas insane
Let me make it plain
You gotta make way for the homo superior

Look at your children
See their faces in golden rays
Dont kid yourself they belong to you


Theyre the start of a coming race
The earth is a bitch
Weve finished our news
Homo sapiens have outgrown their use
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though theyre here to stay

Oh you pretty things (oh you pretty things)
Dont you know youre driving your
Mamas and papas insane
Oh you pretty things (oh you pretty things)
Dont you know youre driving your
Mamas and papas insane

Let me make it plain
You gotta make way for the homo superior