Making Hay

 Are you going to ret and scutch?

Are you going to build and bind?

Are you going beat them?

And will you flatten the threads of the flaxen kind?

Do you need an old thermometer?

To break the bridge of the old geometer.

Who is measuring his toes.

While the grass grows

Under his feet - it's a vomiter

 

Have you sawn the hill in two?

Have you toed the line?

Have you sown the seeds two by two

Crossing country with the country wine?

 

Is it a stain in your pocket?

Is it a thread of your cloak?

Will it pull south if you dead head it?

Who is getting your goat?

 

Oh, the pheasant beaters know it

Yes, they howl, and they grown

When the pheasants they show it

Bear their bleating breast like a crone

 

And ringing through the trees

Goes the shotguns report

Staggering to my knees

I clutch and I moan at the sport

 

And yes, I retch 

when I see the flak in the vetch

And I feel a pea through my sleep

Though my bed is six mattresses deep

 

So, will you ret it, for one more year?

For one more time

Will you scutch and bleed, and tear at the reed?

Will you beat it? Can you ever beat time?

 

But the hands that rock the cradle

are the hands that hold the plough

And some like Cain's on Abel's

Were blood stained after breaking a vow

 

And the lines on the palm of the peasant

Are like the streaks in feathers of a pheasant

They are red and brown, and deep and proud

Like his furrowed brow, under sleeping clouds

 

And what will we make with the flax fibres

Roll them and mat them in to webbed spiders

That cling and they brook their tenuous hooks

And settle in new arrangements their atoms

 

And lattices and matrices 

That mother nature's intricacies

Have patterned

And pat them like patter-cakes, break them and flatten

Them down

Like tortoise shells hunkered

Like the dense pellets of owls

The egg yolks that bind the albumin

In the year's photo albums

And the favourite jokes of friendship

That sadden when they've gone

Oh, make the ties that bind

As strong 

River out of Eden

I was running up the riverbed dry

She was naked lying in her bed

Her stones had not bled, and she could not cry

Her dress of water was locked in store

And she was cold lying on the floor

 

I ran up the Biddle combe brook

And it gave to me a sideways look

Who are you to trample on my bones?

Can't you see I lie alone

 

I need no other to claim my throne

Or cast about my care-worn stones

I am nature the mother grown

But no other shall me own

 

And in ripples and in childish tides

Her water dress trickled down over her thighs

And filled the dry bed where once she was wed

With its web-locked fingers, and its fluidity spread

And curled in crispness of a fresh salad bed

 

And I leapt like a monkey out of her flow

Her water cress dress would have swallowed me whole

In her water-caress I was a fungi

And I could listen to her glamorous story

Glistening soft as a velvet Jew’s ear

Of how she joined the Gulf stream

To travel away for a year

 

But she returned in the rain clouds

Heavy and all out of sorts

He had left her near the Isle of Iona 

For a Madagascan or Chilean sport

 

So she returned to her hilly spring 

She dressed herself in black,

And she lay in ground waters low in the basin

Of the Mendip hill's cavernous crack

 

She stayed like a widow in mourning 

She lay in a suicide pact

With the stalactites and stalagmites adorning

Her chamber of echoing fact

She called to her own deep reflection

And she spoke with the mirror of the cave

And it said you are the source on inspection

It is only from you we can make waves

 

So, go out into the world once again

When the cold air will not turn you to ice

And be like the river of Eden

That runs out through paradise

A million lives

 I've lived a million lives

I've come and gone

over fires and coals

And my feet have moved swiftly along

As deep sea shoals

I've lived a million lives that's me

I've been to Burundi

And Margate on sea

I've sold the souls

And I know that nothing is free

And we pay the price

For the lives we lead

I've lived a million lives

And stole a thousand dolls

And sold the drugs kept under rugs

That have wrapped up things for me

I've been sacked and I've been fired

I've been quacked up in midnight choirs

And walked on cracked ice

So I know the price

Of the life I lead

I've lived a million lives

They're like the stars of the sky

Had so many women, been in too many bars

I've jacked cars, and I've jack-knifed

And I've been the jack of hearts

So I can say I know the price

Of living this life

I've lived a million lives

And walked a thousand trails

And each one of them has cost me twice

For each time I win, in another way I fail

And you lose what you had to begin with

If you're a gambler, if you're a thief

But I ask you who is the greater conman

The king or the priest?

Do they both know the price of the lives they lead?

And we each move our pieces across the chess board

The Rook to the Bishop

The Knight to the Pawn

The King and the Queen are mutually torn

But do they each know the price of the life

To which they're born

I've lived a million lives that's me

You don't have to ask me twice

I know not much is free

Except this advice which I impart to thee

Please know the price of the life

You lead

Wood for the Trees

I can't see the wood for the trees

Not me,

Oh, I look in the brook

But it comes up to my knees

Well what do I need?

 

You need to look through the forest he said

Listen, how far does the dog run into the wood?

I said, I don't know, he said good

You see he runs halfway, because

He can only run halfway into the wood

Before he starts running out of the wood

You see?

Not really -

Well that is why you can't see the wood for the trees

You are focusing on the problem and not the solution

You have to look through the gaps between the trees

To see the other side

If that is where you want to go,

How are you going to get there if you keep looking at the trees, see?

I said yes

Thank you, Fred

River of Eden

 I was running up the river bed dry

She was naked laying in her bed

Her stones had not bled, and she could not cry

Her dress of water was locked in store

And she was cold lying on the stone floor

I ran up the Biddle combe brook

And it gave to me a sideways look

Who are you to trample on my bones?

Can't you see I lie alone

I need no other to claim my throne

Or cast about my care-worn stone

I am nature the mother grown

But no other shall me own

I looked about and saw 

The folly of the broken door

And just as if the river was smarter

I started to hear the sound of laughter

And in ripples and in childish tides

Her water dress trickled down over her thighs

And filled the dry bed where once she was wed

With its web-locked fingers, and its fluidity spread

And curled in crispness of a fresh salad bed

That springs up after the first rains 

And I like a leaping monkey had to jump out her way

Or her water dress would have swallowed me up

In her water cress-caress I was a fungi

Soft as a velvet Jews ear

And I could listen to her glistening and glamorous stories

Of the time she joined the Gulf stream

To travel for a day and a year

But she returned in the rain clouds

Heavy and all out of sorts

He had left her near the Isle of Iona of course

For a Madagascan or Chillian sport

So she returned to her hilly spring 

She dressed herself in black,

And she lay in ground waters low in the basin

Of the Mendip hills limestone cavernous crack

She stayed like a widow in mourning 

she lay in a suicide pact

With the staligtites and staligmites adorning

Her chamber of echoing fact

She called to her own deep reflection

And she spoke with the mirror of the cave

And it said you're the source so remember

It is only from you we can make waves

So go out into the world once again

When the cold air will not turn you to ice

And be the river of Eden

That runs out through paradise

Mulligatawny Owl

The Mulligatawny owl, went on its Mulligatawny prowl

Looking for the mice, with that curry spice

They had recently moved into the district

And brought their cooking and cultural instinct

And it was far from the Tawny owl's own taste

But then again he thought I do so like my mouse paste

He enjoyed spreading it on his bread at home

Up in the tree where he lived all alone

Apart from some squirrels

And a brace of rabbits

Who dug under the roots

As was their habit

And the squirrels always said how gross

That he eats these mice

Because they liked to boast

They only ate the finest acorn from the oak

And this they kept as their private joke

And the owl stayed at home

As he heard their chitter-chatter

He thought those pesky squirrels

What a clatter of skitter-scatter

They make as they scurry up and down the trunk

He wished he could sleep and that he were drunk

But he remembered the mice

And thought what paradise

For tonight when I awake, I'll go out and hunt

Meanwhile the mice were down in their holes

Cooking up something nice to share with the voles

And the word got around that some special creatures were in town

And the smell of their cooking it wafted on the coals

And oh what a hullabaloo it caused

When the mice came out with their mulligatawny soup in their paws

And fed the other rodents in kingly sized portions

Just as they would do on the Indian sub-continent

And everyone said: oh thank you so much

For this food you have prepared which we eat for our lunch

It is really more than a mouse should do

To prepare for ourselves such a delicious stew

So the Mulligatawny mice went home

All gleaming with pride and warmed to the bone

And it was getting late in the morning so they thought

Lets go to bed

So they did just that and went and rested their heads

But when the day began to turn into dusk

They awoke, inside them with a hungry lust

And looked in their cupboards and checked in their pots

But they were all out of their precious ingredients

What we need one said, named Meg, are some nuts

We could ground them like the almonds we brought with us

And add with them eggs from the chicken huts

Which we stole, said the vole, with a certain kind of distrust

I say what we need are some Lentils then said Jo, and Nel said

Lets try the Farmstead, I'm sure we could go

And inside the kitchen cupboards - I know a backdoor in - 

We will find jars of the stuff, though they're starting to thin

While others sourced the carrots and the onions from the field

They all went about preparing for their evening meal

And now for the spice, all the mice rejoined

You don't have to ask twice, that is one thing we purloined

Meanwhile the Mulligatawny owl, went out on his second Mulligatawny prowl

And he was quite peckish, infact a ravenous raptor was he

All tied up in his excitement, he quickly flew out of the tree

And he scanned all around the horizon and the field

Searching his line of sight, his eyes on his meal

There were foxes abroad, and hares boxing in furrows

And square looking toads, and rabbits peeping from burrows

And up in the sky the crows criss-crossed overhead, 

they were on their way to the parliament, like ministers of the dead

And the owl wandered on his path softly winding

His feather beat quiet, like raider in deciding

Cutting his way through the cool gloaming air

With his razor sharp claws, hanging like knives right there

I'm looking for a mouse, have you seen him? Who Who?

He lives in a house, like an underground zoo

And it's full of the vermin, the pests of the field

And I'm the pest controller come to pick up my meal

I'm looking for a mouse, have you seen him? You Hoo?

The type that is a louse, a degrader of twoo

And do you know him? Who who?

Do you know him? You Hoo?

If you see him, do let me know

Or next I'll be coming for you!

Quite unbeknownst to the terror from the air

The mulligatawny mice invaders were scouting their lair

And had found a few good portions of carrots and peas

And were carrying them back home, when who did they see?

But the little vole who came running up to them to plead

Please go home mice, before the Mulligatawny owl makes you bleed!

A Mulligatawny owl, how can that be?

Is he as fast as a fox or as quick as a crow

Is he as clever as a cat, or as slow as a cow

As dumb as a duck, up the top of a gum tree

Oh fee, fie fo fum

Who's afraid of this owl? How come?

Not me said Nel, not me cried Jo, well as you see said Meg

We aren't afraid so

Neither should you be, in the grand scheme of things

This owl is not a threat to us

He is but a nothing

Well the owl kept flying on his aerial comb of his surroundings

He was an ace pilot

Quick as a wink, if he spotted a mink, he swooped on lonely vole

But this doesn't make a meal he said as he swallowed him whole

No what I'm looking for I cannot seem to find

There is a scent of stewing, of the tempting kind

And If I should follow it back to its source

Surely then I'll make my meal full course

So with his eyes he scoured and with his nose he sniffed

And with all of these powers an owl knows what he's whiffed

A Mulligatawny mouse he cried, and his big eyes opened wide

A Mulligatawny mouse whoopy, A mulligatawny mouse I'll have for my tea

And the Owl swept down from the sky and landed near the house

Of the Mulligatawny mice pie, and he said to himself

What's that I can smell cooking

But a Mulligatawny sauce I know well without looking

And who's that I can hear with my great owl ear

But a Mulligatawny mouse tea party coming near

And just as he predicted the other mice of the field

Were trooping their way to their evening meal

Which they planned to share with their mouse pals

Well that was as near they got when they saw the owl

It swooped down upon them, a white flash from the air

And Nel was carried off, Meg cried where's Nel she's not there

She's not here either exclaimed Jo with a growl

Oh it was that pesky, white-winged, mulligatawny owl

Meanwhile Nel was being carried off into the night

When she came to, she saw white feathers and an imposing sight

The Mulligatawny owl's beak protruding in front

She wanted to cry, but then she thought up a stunt

From her mouse pouch, she brought a pawful of spice

And then she lifted it to her snout and blew on it twice

And the powder flew up into the owl's beak and nose

And he sneezed - "A mulligatissue!" and released his great toes

And as she did fall Nel felt with her paws

And brought out on top of her a pair of her draws

And so slowly she floated back down on to earth

With her knickers as a parachute she knew what brief life was worth

Slowly she looked around from her clump of nettles 

and could see nothing in the pitch black, but felt unsettled

What else could be lurking in this patch of ground?

Could it be a fox or a cat or even a hound?

And which way was home, oh what a curse!

But at least now alone, with the owl it was worse

And to come out-unscathed, wow it was true

She couldn't believe what she'd managed to do

Just then a shrew came up and sniffed

And said are you that Nel, who the mice all have missed?

Nel said why yes I am she, now show me the way home

For so grateful I'll be, now I'm not out here all alone

When they arrived, the Mulligatawny stew was cooked

The others in a search party had been out and looked

But they soon met the shrew and their beloved Nel

And they toasted her return and rang the homecoming bell

Well what a story Nel had to tell

As they ate Mulligatawny soup by the old bell

And the Owl who was angry and hungry what's worse

Had to go home to hear the Squirrels chat - his curse

And if there's a moral to this story then let it be

That Mulligatawny dinner with a mouse is not free

And every lunch must be paid for, every grain has a price

Whether eaten by Mulligatawny owl or by three blind mice

Octopodimore roundabout

 Octopodimore roundabout

Is just about what an Octopus shouts

When he thinks it is too busy on the roads

While he is eating Spaghetti

While talking to a toad

And this kind of activity can be a dangerous thing

Especially if the toad begins to sing

Because like Pavarotti he loves to sing of things

That get his gilgotti and make his microwave ping

So he replies it's like Spaghetti junction round here

And then a Baloney Sandwich suddenly appears

And says Bologna, Bologna, well what'd I hear?!

Stop talking Baloney, you know there's nobody near

And he don't count - hey keep your hands on the wheel!

Mr Octopody you're making me feel kind of queer

Well I can't blame you, said the toad

I'm always telling him to keep his eyes on the road

Eyes on the road? Which eye may I ask yer, asked the spider

Which ever one you can, answered the eight legged outsider

Hey man, why are ya trying to push in here?

Can't you see there's plenty of room for the four of us?!

No five, cried the Beer, well would you look at the head on that said the toad

Then the Octopus started sipping it, the sandwich said "Mind the road!"

Don't drink and drive cried the beer, I've too much to live for cried the spider in fear

So now you're afraid of a little alcohol, hey man I'm no light weight I just want to keep my head clear

Well its too late for that said the heavyweight boxer, I'm finishing my dinner plate

Then I'm driving to Uttoxeter, you can't be serious Said the Octopus

Yes I am now my gloves are off, I'm not pulling any punches

Hang a left here said the toad with a moan,

No take a right, said the beer in barotone

"Well I thought I was the only one with a voice so deep!"

"Be quiet everyone the Octopus is asleep"

At the wheel! cried Baloney, well it makes me feel lonely

Boy said the Beer I must stronger than I knew

The heavyweight said who do you think you're talking to!

Then he started a fight in the back, but before it got bad

The car had gone off track onto the hard shoulder

Where chips flew off the block

And they came to a stop

Would you like fish with that?

Asked the little chief,

And then the line, like the front tyre, went flat