Village fete

 You see them at the village fete

So long so long

and old gestate

The blooming maggots of the apple

The grooming faggots in the chapel

The dial up a cele-braty singer

The bells of the church tower ringers

Tiling the bats and cats from hell

Upon the cob webbed windows

Of lives Turned pell-mell

And yellow roll the olives

In the lady's cocktail

As she shakes her maracas

at the sailors who set sail

And cast away the wigs

of the bald and riddled with disease

And try to pull out their thumb

From the plumb of youth with ease

But the dam is always bursting

And the priest is on his knees

And the canal dogs are thirsting

For another lonely tramp to seize

I came and saw the village that seemed

To me such rot

Of all we had before

Of all that once was hot

But now

Cold meat and mutton

Are served upon the plate

And only rabbits made of cotton

Can lift a smile of late

I seem to see the sky fall down

I seem to see the sunset frown

But whether blue or whether brown

I cannot tell, or it is all too late