In my Morris Minor
back in those early days
when the sun it shone forever
and we was free about our ways,
I´d drive it down to Cornwall
and I´d drive it to the coast
I´d drive it up to Scotland
but the drive I liked the most
was driving round the corner
to the cafe for tea and toast;

I used to clean the spark plugs
and then reset the gap
with my trusty feeler gauges
in me boiler suit and cap,
I´d change the points and bleed the clutch
I´d bleed the brakes an all
I´d change the filters drain the sump
and change the ***** oil,
then every Sunday morning
I´d clean it inside out
then take it for a nice long drive,
Cos that´s what it was all about.

Co-Lab with Maggie Magnolia.



On a cold Christmas morn long years ago
lay a soft fresh dusting of pure white snow,
covering the trenches and no man’s land
turning signs of a war to a place so grand,
somehow this beauty affected all men
the cold winter silence broken and then,
a single voice singing O Silent Night
sung so beautifully putting things right.

Everyone joined in from every side
then Stille Nacht stopped all men in their stride,
and with every line the voices just grew
all men sang Schlaf in himmlicher ruh,
they laid down their arms and walked unafraid
meeting the enemy on this Christmas day,
showing their photos of loved ones back home
friendships were formed and a hate for war grown.

Each man and young boy were afraid on that day
but good actors they were, all their fears hid away,
grasping that moment of peace in their hands
they thought of their loved ones and dared to make plans,
alas all was lost as new shots reigned clear
in place of their hopes was a fresh feeling of fear,
nothing has changed as we march forward to war
this Christmas we ask: What was it all for?

On this cold Christmas morn stood in the snow
are millions of crosses row after row,
each bearing a number, unit and name
reminding us all that war´s not just a game,
and yet they played football in no man’s land
forgetting for a moment wars evil plan,
the spirit of Christmas had won over the day
the soldiers became friends to the generals dismay.

They carried him in to Vivaldi´s spring
as we sat there so quiet and sombre,
suffering pain that this service would bring
on this freezing cold day in November.

We spoke of his life, sang psalm twenty three
and offered up prayers whilst down on our knees,
fought back the tears that were wanting to flow
in this old grey church with soft candle glow.

Puccini played as they carried him out
to the grave that was dug on that morning,
Pavarotti sang, we followed the route
the effect of our loss was now dawning.

Lowered him into his bed of cold earth,
his darkness eternal, same as our love*.

I will tell you this, my learned friend,
of worldly words I know not,
but common sense now there’s a thing
you will not learn from all your well read books.

I see that you are of hard cold heart
and your body lacks a bone that cares,
but a helping hand now there’s a thing
that you will never understand.

I can see you are a selfish man
and that your time is solely yours,
thoughts for others you would not spare,
and you turn your nose up at the poor.

I will tell you this as you look down
from your self appointed pedestal,
you are no better than the other man,
so be careful, it’s a long long way to fall*.

I’ll stand my ground
not be dragooned
into modern ways of mediocrity,

Steadfast and relentless
I shall be
maintaining the standards
that used to be,

I’ll offer up a seat for you
hold open wide the door,
I will be the perfect gentleman
for now and evermore.

But when the waiter
comes with the bill
"that’s the bit I don’t like much"
I really would not mind my love
if we were going Dutch*.

There is a tapping at the window
and a rustling at the door,
there is a creaking on the staircase
like I´ve never heard before,
there is scratching in the attic
and there is banging from the shed,
me thinks, I´d better do a runner
or I´ll be ending up quite dead.

Something! doesn’t want me here
that´s what I suppose,
something weird and scary
is a lurking in this house,
there´s a shadow floats across the hall
that glows a greenish yellow,
I´m sinking lower in my chair...
I am one real frightened fellow.

Soot is falling from the chimney
and slates are rattling up on high,
the door starts opening slowly
and my nerves begin to fry,
I turn and look towards the door
and my eyes I can´t believe,
it´s coming from the shadows
and it is coming straight at me.

It was yellow, green and purple
and it smelled of ***** socks,
it floated in real scary like
and it was something not to mock,
its fangs were long and pointed
its eyes they shined bright red,
its breath was grey and icy cold
Oh! I knew I should have fled.

It must have stood nine feet or more
a sight to scare the bravest men,
its hair was white, made of wire
and on each hand its fingers numbered ten,
the finger nails looked razor sharp
they were pointed, they were long,
its hands were blue the veins were black
and it was out to do me wrong.

My throat was dry I couldn´t scream
I was shaking head to toe,
my limbs were frozen, I could not move
as it came towards me really slow,
three feet away it held its ground
its red eyes stared right into mine,
it pointed down at me and said
for you my friend it´s now the time.

With one swift move it grabbed my throat
and dug its nails in deep,
I could feel my life was draining
and down my neck I felt the warm blood seep,
it lifted me from out my chair
and flung me at the wall,
then it kicked me all around the room
and out into the hall.

That´s when I heard the door bell ring.
Could it be “trick or treat” kids come to call?
I´ll **** them all, it screamed at me
and left me writhing  in deaths thrall,
with green saliva spilling from its mouth
this odious creature headed to the door,
I feared so for the children
but laid so helpless on the floor.

It paused and turned then snarled at me
I´ll be back to eat your spleen,
If you´ve last words speak them now...
I said “Wish Facebook friends a scary Halloween,
It was a vicious beast to say the least
but this story is not true,
you see I used the poets licence
to write this shocker just for you*.

Every lounger taken
buckets spades and boards
families doing what families do
on sandy beaches in their hoards,
lashing on the lotion
for protection from the sun
lunches in the chiringuitos
a respite from the fun,
then it´s back to cheering, laughing, screaming,
bats and ***** and floats
splashing in the breaking waves
with plastic rings and rubber boats,
but now the shadows lengthen
the burning sun sinks to the sea
everyone is packing up
and heading back for tea,
the sunset shining glorious
the beach lit up with amber glow
saffron skies as the evening tires
and the pace begins to slow,
the beach is now deserted
as I stroll along the shore
beneath my feet the cooling sand
to my left the oceans roar,
a silver moon lights up the sky
and shines a path across the sea
a tranquil way to close the day
just a summer breeze and me,
come the morn it´s back to the norm
for the holidaying hoards
some lying bronzing in the sun
others surfing multi coloured boards,
every lounger will be taken
as another day unfolds
tomorrow on their flights back home
their holidaying stories will be told*.


Note : Chiringuito = Beach Bar/Restaurant.