Friday, 2 May 2014

Sing A Song Betwixt Pence

The work dried up in twenty-nine
Left my pockets undefended
the bankers pulled my credit in
to leave me weak played-out extended

Look on the bright side I declared
There’s plenty left to do
Like signing down the Centre
Attend a pointless interview

At least all my dependents
Keep well away from my cold frame
So much easier to starve alone
let my hunger take the blame

They hand me sixty-five each week
A princely figure I astound
To join the queue of  ‘that wont do’
On a crooked troubled mound

It’s not that I’m not grateful

For the deadpan watered stew
or the digs of finger pointers
from those with better things do

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