Today I met a rich man
coming up the stairs
if he was a happy man
I’m sadly unawares
because we never spoke at length
just traded a few words
an unprofitable transaction
for the rich man on the stairs.
Today I met a poor man
coming down the stairs
he smiled and asked me how I was
and I asked him in return
we spoke at length of life and love
without the grace and airs
of the grumpy rich man
I’d just met up the stairs.
there’s rocks in my head
which de-rail each train of thought
and break up the tracks
Glenda held the glitter bag
tightly by its seams
in it she kept her secret thoughts
and sometimes little dreams
which wouldn’t fit inside her head
there simply wasn’t space
what with all the music
that played behind her face
until one day with open eyes
she let the music free
and emptied out her glitter bag
for all the world to see.
I just built a time machine
and feel it’s only fair
to offer the first voyage
to 1980’s Cher.
In a sleepy seaside town
nowhere near the sea
I tawt I taw a putty tat
all itchin’ with a flea
the flea though was a scratchcard
for the local lottery
and putty tat found cherries
not one
nor two
but three
He skipped off to the newsagents
to see what he had won
perhaps he’d take a mini break
a week under the sun
in a real seaside town
somewhere near a sea
with cat nip flowing on demand
and prawn cocktails for his tea
Alas his dreams were shattered
the shopkeeper was mean
as little scratchy putty tat
couldn’t prove he was eighteen
she glances at me
I catch it in the mirror
turns me back to front
Barnaby has orange eyes
they shine like tangerines
the other cats don’t talk to him
because his eyes aren’t green
but that doesn’t bother Barnaby
if you must know the truth
as he prefers
to sit and stare
and remain quite aloof
Crackerjack Bacharach
fancy lemon swirls
I could write a love song
if you let me in your world
and paint it pastel sugartopped
with filigree and flair
between each line
I’d pass the time
to linger in your air.
she has an adventurous nose
which twitches whenever she goes
somewhere that’s exciting
or purely inviting
or if somewhere thrilling arose
In October
I write
September songs
that reminisce
on a springtime
I’m sure
I never had
but hope
to find
before
the clocks go back
the blighters rock 