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GROWLTIGER was a Bravo Cat, who lived upon a barge;
In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large.
From Gravesend up to Oxford he pursued his evil aims,
Rejoicing in his title of “The Terror of the Thames.”

His manners and appearance did not calculate to please;
His coat was torn and seedy, he was baggy at the knees;
One ear was somewhat missing, no need to tell you why,
And he scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye.

The cottagers of Rotherhithe knew something of his fame,
At Hammersmith and Putney people shuddered at his name.
They would fortify the hen-house, lock up the silly goose,
When the rumour ran along the shore: GROWLTIGER’S ON THE LOOSE!

Woe to the weak canary, that fluttered from its cage;
Woe to the pampered Pekinese, that faced Growltiger’s rage.
Woe to the bristly Bandicoot, that lurks on foreign ships,
And woe to any Cat with whom Growltiger came to grips!

But most to Cats of foreign race his hatred had been vowed;
To Cats of foreign name and race no quarter was allowed.
The Persian and the Siamese regarded him with fear—
Because it was a Siamese had mauled his missing ear.

Now on a peaceful summer night, all nature seemed at play,
The tender moon was shining bright, the barge at Molesey lay.
All in the balmy moonlight it lay rocking on the tide—
And Growltiger was disposed to show his sentimental side.

His bucko mate, GRUMBUSKIN, long since had disappeared,
For to the Bell at Hampton he had gone to wet his beard;
And his bosun, TUMBLEBRUTUS, he too had stol’n away-
In the yard behind the Lion he was prowling for his prey.

In the forepeak of the vessel Growltiger sate alone,
Concentrating his attention on the Lady GRIDDLEBONE.
And his raffish crew were sleeping in their barrels and their bunks—
As the Siamese came creeping in their sampans and their junks.

Growltiger had no eye or ear for aught but Griddlebone,
And the Lady seemed enraptured by his manly baritone,
Disposed to relaxation, and awaiting no surprise—
But the moonlight shone reflected from a thousand bright blue eyes.

And closer still and closer the sampans circled round,
And yet from all the enemy there was not heard a sound.
The lovers sang their last duet, in danger of their lives—
For the foe was armed with toasting forks and cruel carving knives.
Then GILBERT gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian horde;
With a frightful burst of fireworks the Chinks they swarmed aboard.
Abandoning their sampans, and their pullaways and junks,
They battened down the hatches on the crew within their bunks.

Then Griddlebone she gave a screech, for she was badly skeered;
I am sorry to admit it, but she quickly disappeared.
She probably escaped with ease, I’m sure she was not drowned—
But a serried ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround.

The ruthless foe pressed forward, in stubborn rank on rank;
Growltiger to his vast surprise was forced to walk the plank.
He who a hundred victims had driven to that drop,
At the end of all his crimes was forced to go ker-flip, ker-flop.

Oh there was joy in Wapping when the news flew through the land;
At Maidenhead and Henley there was dancing on the strand.
Rats were roasted whole at Brentford, and at Victoria Dock,
And a day of celebration was commanded in Bangkok.
It takes cement
to make a gent
and
I've been chewing bricks
since nineteen fifty six
that's an awful lot of brick dust.

They say,
needs must when the Devil rides,
time and tides and other adages that
make no sense to me.

I always
listen carefully,
but it's in one ear and out
the other.

Learning is not my disability,
the ability to unlearn is what
unnerves me

and it's Saturday
I should be out at play
but
I'm going to work to
pay my tax
so
some idle swine on
easy street can sit back
and relax.

He's in a shaft
and
they all laughed,
but
it wasn't the
bottomless pit.
meant to post it this morning as I wrote it on the way to work.
River boats float along,
up and down
from side to side,
Putney to
Rotherhithe

all this
stems from the Thames
the arterial tree

for the sailor in me the Thames will do
on a flat bottomed barge
muddling through to
St Katherine's and Tobacco dock, to
Tower bridge and make a stop

Ferries and Wherries and
waterways
days on the Thames

making friends
with the mudlarks, the spivs
the preachers, the sharks
all parts of the stem
a branch of the tree

life is for me from
the Thames to the sea.
You move a square to move a square and finally you're squared away,
circles are much the same although rounder.

I found a
way
to circumvent
the police called it,
with intent,


and now I'm doing
two to five
not in prison, but
in Rotherhithe
which is much worse.


The rain falls mainly everywhere and
not just in Spain although
My fair lady believes otherwise
sometimes
Rotherhithe isn't that bad.

If we fight the will to live
we lose or do we win?
I'll get back to you
on that one.
Laura P Apr 2020
I don’t dwell on the whiskey burn 
Or on lager-foamed lips
Rouge lipstick mark hints

Of a bruise to form and swell
You say you remember it well

Of me doe-eyed, above the glass
That captured a moment passed

Sleuth youths with young lungs

Huff up Villier’s smoke - so cool
Smirking, as we watch the girls
In vintage skirts, they coyly twirl
With kindling eyes and Gordon’s wine
In shy reply.

Echoes of the night before
Slowly fade in violet hours.
What’s so inviting under Arches
Now clatters back to the Strand,
Away from Embankment
And stolen midnight kisses.

So to remove a part of me

Is to remove a world of Pride.
A journey not yet run its course,
A journey not at its hearse
;
For if it is not alright
,
Then it is not yet the end.

Without due care I flick the end
Towards the river well
.
It roars and sighs,
By the ‘friar,

Past the Tower,
And Shadwell,
All through Rotherhithe.

It’s not the end, it’s not the end
.
For we go on and on
Just like the Thames.

— The End —