Cuttings

They took a sprig from Hatfeild Hall

And planted it in Wakefield Gaol

A Mulberry bush grew on the spot

Its humble origins forgot

And there prisoners exercised at night

Beneath the pale Yorkshire moonlight

Round and round the tree they went

Those sinners who could not repent

Before that Mulberry tree had died

They took some cuttings to the outside

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There used to be a game called soccer

At the touchline kids could stand

A haze of heroes 'mid a floodlight glare

Made it the best sport in the land

Then moneymen and bookies took over

The spectacle got stained by money

For off-shore agents and asset-strippers

It became the land of milk and honey

Players lost touch with the public

Fans turned into mere units of ...

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NO MORE CHANCES TO WIN 

GAME IS OVER, MY DEAR 

THE CHANCE IS ONLY ONE 

YOU MISSED IT LAST YEAR 

NO MORE TIME TO PLAY 

SAME GAME FROM THE BEGINNING 

I DON'T WANT TO STAY 

TO WATCH YOU, MY DARLING 

NO NEED TO WAIT FOR THE END 

NO MORE CHANGES TO COME 

GOOD BYE.. SEE YOU MY FRIEND 

NO DANCE WHERE NO "DRUMS" 
 

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Lips: like cliché cartoon roses.

Yes, red.

But open up my mouth,

Those lilies will  -   snap.   -   You.  -   Up.

Thorn in your side.

I think we used to fly with the bats,

The doves always ended up on our dinner table,

I told you it was chicken.

You choked me with Amen,

You squeezed me with your hand for grace,

For grace, from grace I fell

Down from the heaven...

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On the island’s south side

a solitary town fizzes

like overloaded circuitry

on dark, motherboard hills.

Across a sticky, smooth-tiled walkway

an amusement arcade spills

a test of sexiness based on how clammy your palm is

and the hitting game.

You spin in coins so they register

on sensors worn numb. 

A padded st...

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"Nice to see you

To see you nice".

Tip-tapping in waistcoats;

On the noble steed that is

Tess Daly.

Wielding his chin

Like a sabre,

And winning the nation's

Favour, "'Cos

That's the name of the game".

He's not a king,

Queen or Jack.

He's not even "higher

Or lower" - he's a knight!

Bruce Forsyth:

Knight of t...

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SHE

She looked all of a rock goddess in her black vest,                                                                                          

grey skin tight leggings and loose brown hair.                                                                                               

Bent over the pool table doing her shot,                                                   ...

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