~

as the crowbar flies ( if in doubt – bother a cousin )

…

there is movement in the city

through its streets, pavements & jitties

there are staggers in the valley

where them dawdlers dilly dally


in the town criers are shouting

certain thomas's are doubting

in the woods squirrels are waltzing

as pole vaulters are revolting


there are echos trapped down old wells

as the purists practice old spells

as the tortoises are rushing

& burst sewage pipes are gushing


& then there's a pond on fire

the bogged down stuck in the mire

plus all those missing bits to find

as the crowbar flies

in my mind

...