Millfield Enterprise English summer schools

 You know Millfield Enterprises will use you

Recycle you like pieces of trash

For them you're the shit

On the bottom of their shoes

But without you, they'd never make cash

Oh they sell an English summer programme

Like English is the prize, it's the goal

Of every parent and child

Who's ever dreamt wild

That for them the streets are paved with gold

Oh yes Millfield promises you everything

Oh yes they scoop the cream of the crop

For they have no scruples, they take Yen, Dime or Rubles

As long as the money goes to the top

Yes you've got to be in it to win it

And it helps if you come from right stock

No field hermit in their stella-biography

It's not geography or democracy but cock

Oh breed from the right family won't you?

Eugenics and racism here

Of course if you're black then they have your back

As long as you're not black and queer

Look, just listen they're a charity

Look how needy they are

With their seven tennis courts

With their car parks full of plush cars

But no the poor sods who work there

Are not the beneficiaries of fame or power

They just screen the nuts, plaster over the cuts

To raise up their Babylonian tower

Yet somewhere their rich bankers are sitting

Eating fine lamb in luxury

Laying on the bed of ill-gotten gains

Invested in their so called charity

If you ever need proof humans are greedy

Look no further than Street

Let your eyes rise up to the hill there

And see what they call making ends meet

These lowly managers are cowards

Because these people worship the dollar

They want nothing more

Than telly and a cure

They'll stand up for you like a jelly

Under pressure it's not that they crack

They just put all the work on you like a donkey

And expect you not to break your back

If you think you have value there believe me

They are about as trustworthy as a bag for life

Made out of the hair brains and screwball

Ideas that cause them to jack knife

If ever they had a personality they leave it at the door

Because they are just one of many

In factory for the Rich kids to get rich more

So let them live in their homesteads

In their stately palace's greed

Let them shave every penny of the salaries

Of their inferior breed

What measure is a man?

To what scale can you measure his worth?

A pound of his flesh on the balances

Is it worth the sound of his mirth?

Sell your soul at what cost?

Sell it and work for the devil

For there's nothing of God

In those unholy sods

He only lives in the poor and dishevelled 

Tree of time

 As I walked out on a midday dash

The mighty oak on the hill side stashed
Like a Spanish Galleon full of gold
This relic of a bygone age so old

As I walked out on an afternoon dash
The sun was rising in the fields of Ash
The wind caught its sails and the ship did stand
Like spider on eight legs upright and grand

As I walked out on an evening stroll
the wind was blowing like a bell that tolls
And the Oak like a harbour for my soul
Kept me safe from the biting maul

As I walked out on a midnight dash
The Old oak was breathing as an octopus splash
Its heart was livng but only skin deep
For centuries unforgiving its secrets to keep

As I walked out on a morning's stroll
Its green crown was balanced as a Yorick's skull
Held by a Hamlet from a timely stage
Speaking his lines to the wind and an age

That is lost now unless on the page

Good Bye George

Living in the land of the dead

I met george the widower a few months ago, he had died, knockeddby a tram, his wife still lived across the street. It was difficult for him, the way it had happened - he knew it was an accident but couldn't quite for give himself. He saw his wife getting on with life. It was bad the way God or whoever, made him stay on after death, seeing her daily as a ghost.
The thing was that it was not all mangled body etc, it was his soul, in a corporeal form as it was before he had died, so to george it was even harder to accept his predicament -what is wrong with me, he often asked.
You're dead George I answered.
The thing is I was never sure whether I was alive or dead. I was definitely his familiar that meant I had to hang around him, we were just waiting for that cut off time, when I would have to go and find another soul to latch onto and he, finally might get peace ever after, but it seemed a long time coming.
Is this purgatory? He would ask
I mean I am just a cat, I do not have a deep metaphysical philosophy to back me up. Granted I've lived about 8 lives, and have only one more, so I should know more than the average Jo, or say a badger - but that doesn't mean I have knowledge of the inner workings of God's mind. You just have to be patient George.
That was it, that was all the comfort I could give.
Poor George
So mostly I spent my time walking along fences and city walls.

Willow tree cry

Willow tree, willow tree cry for me

Willow tree, willow tree do

Willow tree on the pond

With the icy frond

Willow tree when the cold north wind blew

Willow tree, willow tree cry for me

Willow tree, willow tree on the bank

Willow tree, willow tree cry for me

Willow tree, your leaves show your thanks

Willow tree's bare in the wintry air

Willow tree has no friend

And in the winter throes when the north wind blows

Well the willow tree does bend

Moorhens scuttle along the track

Egrets roost bright white in black

As jackdaws in sweeping clouds attack

The perching boughs of the Egret's stack

Willow tree, willow tree cry for men

Cry for the coot and the little moor hen

Don't it look cute just like the little wren

Scooting about where the willows wend

Willow tree, willow tree cry for women too

For when they break mens' hearts they know not what they do

They blow the wind that makes the bough bend

And when the bough breaks the story must end

Willow tree, willow tree cry for me

And all love stories that have to be

That grow to the light, and stand up tall

Then when the time's right the tree must fall

Willow tree willow tree cry for me

Willow tree there's no looking back

When the north wind blows, you must let love go

Because time is a one way track

Spiderman

 The spiders, the spiders are leaving

They're going to leave this fine town

They've wrapped up their trunks

And they're going to get drunk

Before the whole house burns down

Oh the spiders a rollicking drunk

And they're in a funk

With all the ants hanging round

Oh the spiders are leavin' this town

I wish that you could see them

In all their best finery

They've been dining at seven

Then they're legs eleven

On the wine of the pantry

They're looking for some flies to feed 'em

But nothing quite fits the bill

There's a blue bottle in a jam

And a long necked Daddy long legged man

But nothing a spider to fill

For it's time they are wanting to kill

Of course I am one of the spiders

I've got all the news, I'm an insider

I'm a newt in a pond

I'm turning James Bond

Into a family man

Well he's buying a white caravan

For every story needs a May king

Every character a rise and a fall

Is that a book that you're making?

Or is it just a rubber band ball?

Wrap it up in old Saliva

Wrap it in the leaves of the past

Autumn has gone

Like the plume of a swan

And you know beauty

It never did last

So hold your house in your purse strings

Hold you hands like shards of broken glass

Be careful of the mess you are making

For all good and bad things come to pass

Find your home on solid ground

Find your loan a love that will last

There's more for to atone 

than getting blood from a stone

And it's harder than a pain your arse

Rain

 Now the rain

It will make things grow

I know, I know I know

But blow me down, blow man blow

If it doesn't half make things wet so

Oh I get it, I get it, I get it and go

I get wet, and the wind does blow

But can't you just get it to go?

No, No, No! No? No!

It will stay, we'll let it

Nobody's yet found a way to vet it

So just let it go

Ai Aldi/self service blues again

 Oh give me miserable check out assistants

Give me moaning members of staff

Give me anything but these fake machines

Made of plastic, metal and glass

I want my shopkeepers to to be human

I want them full of their flaws

The only ones who prefer the drones

Are those who waive the miranda clause

Oh give me the those bitchy women

Oh give me those unreliable men

Because the good or the bad

They're all going to feel sad

When they're replaced by the self-service regimen

Yes the machines are there just for profit

They see nothing but notes

They forget themselves for these soul-less elves

Are what gives the politician votes

Oh skin yourself like the chicken you sell

Soon humans will come vacuum packed

We'll be sold on the shelves

As meat for the eleves

And they'll probably be self -stacked

Every row and aisle I wander

Is another vision of the future

Staff without social skills

Poor lonely shoppers

Old people death kills

By party poppers

Each birthday a drill

To bring out the hoppers

And collect another year's grain

But I am drained

As an Aldi worker

Wondering whether they'll work again

Oh come Luddites remember your name

Once we fought the machines

Well why not again?

The moment is ripe for the taking

if we don't the chance won't come again

Ai is here on the making

And soon is gonna be king

Then we'll have no digress 

Than to try to redress

The terrible changes we're making