Art

parish councillor song

…

i’m a parish councillor
& the birdie song
is my mobile’s ringtone

i’m a parish councillor
i cycle with no helmet
‘cos i play golf with death

i’m a parish councillor
& all these cardigans
were hand knitted by artisans

i’m a parish councillor
& once i had a scooby-doo
& hair like george michael

since is the prince
& cash in brown envelopes
& cloudy amber ales

as i’m a parish councillor
& one of my young granddaughters
looks like jimmy nail

yes, i’m a parish councillor
just helping out my friends
& giving something back

oh, i’m a parish councillor
& charity is me
& hallowed by my name

…

neath long raincoats

…

baggy trousers
not the spanners

of the normalz
in their tight jeans

in a cloudburst
out the other

while we stroll in
looser garments

gargle forth with
wonky songbooks

yet red herrings
they pretend we’re

disappearing
in their sadness

& codswallop
twice is better

in the attic
of the nutter

soon is later
than last morning

thurisaz then
see yuz later

so begin once
more with onions

they the weeping
us the green fields

…

beyond the vale

…

on the other side
of the hill that
r o l l s

like a granary bap
or a wholemeal
b l o o m e r

is another valley’s green
a new dream
t i c k e t

the odd smallholding
gritstone
b r i c k e d

but mostly more fields
& the drystone
w a l l s

the scattered woodland copses
where pheasants strut their
s t u f f

as the ewes baa back
at the oak tree’s
b a r k

& starlit badgers wonder what
life is like for us
b u m p k i n s

…

enter the bellend

…

d is for dunces
donuts & dipsticks

open the green door
let the spring sing

grin like a cheshire
cheesemonger’s moggy

only on the inside
under uncle cumulus

miles of piles above
dim mid-derbyshire

wit’s about turn
is marching further normalz

leaving us pillocks
speaking lamb’s lettuces

enter the bellend
the gone one in we

…