Star spangled banners and kids without manners.
From both sides of the saline pond.
Universal bond of childhood.
Sometimes naughty others good.

Facing into the roses,
They're scratching their noses.
Salt waters screaming from beaches, that nobody reaches.
Encouraging dipping when the kids should be kipping.
It's seven a.m, it's really too early.
The water's so chilled and their toes rather curly.

Running for cover avoiding past lovers.
Children are crying, the water's real cold now.
Mother insisted, the silly old cow.

Walk past the church on the left.
The old fashioned one with the bent twisted steeple.
Inside hides a guy, he's claiming church sanctuary.

In the churchyard a black cat, carrying bad luck in a black velvet sack.
Should have been green to fit into the scene.
Betwixt the headstones, upon the grass.
Hid in the corner the witch stirs her cauldron.

She missed undelivered promises, lost in the mail.
The male was late, a bit like a snail.
Once was a husband, abandoned his kid.

And the English kids, so loud and uncouth.
Told the hag by the cauldron,
To give them some money.
Not a penny to her name.
Disappeared to the back streets.
To go play the game.
With a couple of punters.
To provide for her kids.
Financial hunters.
Was always the same.
For her name was mummy.
(C) LIVVI