Smooth SONG
This song
is so smooth,
It slips
out of my mouth
And goes up
your ears, just like a
Vaselined
trout
This song
is so smooth,
It slips
off my tongue
And goes up
your ears, with a plop, like
An oily
plum.
This song
is so smooth,
I remember
the day
When we had
Vaselined trout
With oily
plums for afters
In old San
Tropez
In a
pavement café.
This song
is so smooth,
It slips
out like shit
With a
faint nostalgic aroma and
Plumstones
in it
Then. I
recall that day
And I think
of you
And plum
trees growing on
Sewage
farms in France
The breeze
moves their leaves
Their white
blossoms dance,
This song
is so smooth,
It’s about Romance.
TWO
HARMONICA POEMS ABOUT ADDICTION
COWBOYS
(dedicated
to the Malboro’ cowboy who used to have his picture plastered all over London
If you miss
the last tube,
There’s no
way to get through
You are
five thousand miles from your home
Not just
one, not just two, not just three, not just four.
You are
five thousand miles from your home
(short harmonica break)
You have
worked it out at last
You have
fallen on your arse
You were
walking tall
But your
legs just won’t obey.
You are
pissed as a newt
You got
vomit on your suit
You have
worked it out
But you
throw up when you try to say.
If you miss
the last tube,
There’s no
way to get through
But the
cowboys on the posters
Ride the
range
(long harmonica break)
IF THE SEA WAS
WHISKEY
(first verse trad)
If the sea
was whiskey
And I was a
diving duck
If the sea
was whiskey
And I was a
diving duck
Swear I’d
swim to the bottom,
Swear I
never would come up.
If the
ocean was gin
And I was a
basking shark
If the
ocean was gin
And I was a
basking shark
I’d swim
with my mouth wide open
I’d be one
big swimming grin.
If the
rivers were vodka,
And I was a
silver eel
If the
rivers were vodka,
And I was a
silver eel
I get so
very jellied
Never make
the Sargasso Sea
If the lakes
were brandy
And I was a
Romantic poet
If the
lakes were brandy
And I was a
Romantic poet
I’d be so smacked
on laudanum
That I’d
never manage to drink all of them
If the
reservoirs were Armagnac
I’d cause a
public drought
If the
reservoirs were Armagnac
I’d cause a
public drought
Then I’d
cause widespread trouser flooding,
When I pissed
it all out.
If the sea
was whiskey
And I was a
diving duck
If the sea
was whiskey
And I was a
diving duck
Swear I’d
swim to the bottom,
Swear I
never would come up.
GOSSIP
Sex,
gender, gender roles and sexual orientation,
Are all
matters of preoccupation
And sometimes,
perturbation
For us all.
Blowing up
sometimes like squalls
Over a
choppy sea
But it
seems that whenever
Pundits and
pop scientists try
To pin it
all down,
They always
get it wrong and make us frown
Because we
all know men don’t gossip
Ain’t that
so?
Especially,
my mate, Mister X,
Who was
seen having sex
(with a woman
for once),
Whilst riding
his bike
Up Deptford High Street
Why couldn’t
he have used a unicycle like a normal person?
I know it’s
true, ‘cause I got my sauces
HP, tomato
Ketchup and curried scurrility marsala
And another
bit of how’s yer father
Was the
politician who might not like us to know
About him sitting
in a club, in a bathtub in the golden rain,
Drinking strong
lager and shouting
“Oh where
is my Compass? I have lost my way!”
Then there’s
them
They only
gone an’ ‘ad a baby.
Ain’t
puttit in a spindryer yet
And it can
almost speak!
She’ll
probably grow up to become a member of the Fourth International.
And what
about them with their hostel in Amsterdam
Cocaine on
the cornflakes at the summer school, I heard.
Where did
they get it
Farced if I
know.
So there we
are, another stereotype bites the dust,
As they all
must
It’s like
that multi-tasking
They say
only women can do it
But that’s
all bollocks
Look at me
see
I’m sitting
down and being a mouthy git
Simultaneously
This is it
Innit?
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