Deadline 23:45
Pints of beer and warmed up shandies
SIXPENCE
Someone has died at number ninety-five
The alternatives were ghoulish
The Man from the Pru is chasing Mrs Evans
The wood vibrates
Three tanner doubles and a treble on some mares
We could marry down the Reggie, so we did
Well we knew that we were foolish
You said you did not love me, but there was the kid
1939
A Small War, Far Away
After They Leave
And a boy at fifty-two has an odd disease
And a packet of ready-salted or a pie
And Ron from seventeen is in Cardiff for debts
BLACK
Bloody Beethoven
But Robert Wakeham went to nick for twenty years
CRASH
Dad borrowed a quid from Mam, went to the Gaer
Dance like you are going to die tomorrow
Enough left for The Sporting Life and just about four pints
February, March, Late
Forced smiles on a hundred pink-faced women
No comments:
Post a Comment