POOR  BILL

BillPosters

POOR  BILL

 

Poor Bill Posters
They did lead him a dance;
They were always out to get him,
He never stood a chance.

I wonder if they caught him,
Caught him in the act.
Or maybe he escaped
After he’d their shop ransacked.

What had he done to vex them,
Had he been so bad?
Why had they sworn to catch him,
That mad and crazy lad?

A dyed-in-the-wool shoplifter,
A lousy screwed-up thief,
An habitual offender,
Who’d brought them endless grief?

But I hope they’ll never catch him,
It’s his name that let him down;
That eventually undid him,
And drove him out of town.

Bill Posters

Photos:  WHB  . . .   Surrey, England – 2020

DEATH Visits The Pound Shop

death-at-the-poundshop

DEATH VISITS THE POUND SHOP

 

I heard it in the Pound Shop,
A cheapish place to be.
At first I wasn’t listening,
It seemed like Greek to me.

On her mobile phone,
Talking to who knows who.
Oblivious to all else
When in the checkout queue.

I’ll give you the milder version,
Don’t wish to spoil your day.
“ ‘Snot goin to’ appen” she shouted,
“Tell ‘im to eff off out of the way.”

Then raising her voice in crescendo,
Turning the air quite blue,
“It reely ‘urts” she said,
“’Urry up ‘cos I want the loo.”

Ignored by her fellow shoppers
This lasted quite a while
And no one tried to stem the flow
Of rhetoric and bile.

Yes, several brows were furrowed,
But no one else said a word.
‘Twas as though it hadn’t happened,
Nothing untoward had occurred.

Until a gaunt and aged chap
Facing her directly,
Said, “It’s H-urts, not ‘urts, you know,
Please do speak correctly.”

“And H-urry, H-appen, not just ‘appen”,
He then went on to say,
“H-ell’s bells and H-old your H-orses too,
Just get it right I pray.”

The woman was stunned for just a moment,
I thought she hadn’t heard.
She looked with disdain on him,
And said, “Don’t be H-absurd!”

And then that old and dark-caped chap
Taking a deep breath,
Wielding a scythe and timer said,
“Lady, you are approaching Death.”

“‘Ow rude”,  she shouted sullenly
And headed for the door,
What cheek to tell me ‘ow to speak
”I ain’t stayin ‘ere no more”.

With this the miffed and coarse-grained lady
Swiftly bagged her phone
Left the shop with deadly speed,
 “I’m effing off back ‘ome”.

CODA . . .

 What happened to the aspirate
Has it become redundant?
Careless speech is everywhere
And coarseness now abundant.

 

VINEGAR

(Poem No.37 of my favourite short poems)

F&CShop2

‘Fish & Chip Shop’ … Pen and Wash – WHB 2017

VINEGAR

 Sometimes  

I feel like a priest

In a fish and chip queue

Quietly thinking

As the vinegar runs through

How nice it would be

To buy supper for two

 

By Roger McGough

 [ From:  Penguin Modern Poets 10 – Henri; McGough; Patten ]

This gentle compact verse catches, in just a few phrases, some of the emotion of a humdrum everyday activity and wistfully points to the suppressed yearnings of both a personal and a monastic life.

Roger McGough  (1937 – ) is an English poet, broadcaster, playwright, and children’s author . He presents the BBC Radio 4 programme ‘Poetry Please’.   He is one of the leading members of the group which have become known as The Liverpool Poets’.

bar-curl1

To Titillate The Tourists

undies1

TO TITILLATE THE TOURISTS

To be beside the sea
That is our nation’s fashion;
It’s obviously the place
For promulgating passion.

But how do seaside shoppers
Decide just what to buy?
Are they tempted by advertisements?
I often wonder why.

Well, once upon a summer,
On a hot and sunny day,
On holiday in Devon,
On a stroll around the bay.

I came across this advert
Along the promenade;
I must admit initially
I thought I’d have it barred.

A touch of seaside whimsy
That’s OK and I’m all for it,
But such immodest come-ons,
Who’d have ever thought it!

‘KNICKERS FOR A NICKER;
POUCHES FOR A POUND’,
To titillate the tourists,
Well, such ads are all around.

But on a seafront shop
I didn’t think it right;
I even thought that something
Was wrong with my eyesight.

I don’t know why it was
I was so overcome,
With thoughts of indignation
I really was struck dumb.

It was just a bit of fun,
Why was I so upset?
But when little George cried ‘Look Dad’
I broke out in a sweat.

“That’s what you and mum wore
When I spied you yesterday.
Can Sue and me have one each,
Like you?”, I heard him say.

bar152

NOTE:

‘Nicker’ is Cockney Slang for One Pound.  The OED says it’s origin is unknown, but suggests it could be originally horse racing slang.  The term … has …  London associations … and dates from the early 20th Century (it explains that terrible old joke: ‘Why can’t a one-legged woman change a pound note? Because she’s only got half a (k)nicker!’ and which nobody seems to know the origin of).

bar-curl1