My friend Julia loves this type of bloke. Every now and then she goes off to Hebden Bridge on a barge and she pokes a tree with the sharp end of her guitar and one falls down. She whips them off to Salford with her, then soon gets sick of them scrounging food and banging on and returns them. They can also be found in Manchester from All Saints Library up to and including Hulme. 

 

 

Posh Tramps

 

Let’s all get grounded

Be one with the soil

The trees,

Listen intently to the breeze-

Let’s become posh tramps.

 

Not those that get battered and buggered-

Those ones with colourful knit-wear

A bit frayed,

Not the ones with the Big Issue

The ones who can survive

Quite well

Without.

 

They are also on drugs

Like the common ones

But they’re careful about it

They never ask you for cash.

 

They like craft things-

One of them in the group

Will be able to make a mobile

Another can play the bongos,

One throws balls up,

Another has sticks on string

And a cup.

There will be one with pink hair,

They like to be individuals,

I think they can knit.

 

Let’s go and sit in the 8^th Day

And pretend

That no ones profiting from it,

We’ll read a book while we’re eating

Then later

We’ll find some grass,

I’ll drink skunk wine from

A hand painted recycled glass,

You can strum a guitar

And sing about how shit the system is.

 

 

And we’ll hope they don’t bubble us-

A couple of chavs in colourful jumpers-

Yin and Yang in Burberry check,

Being a part of their dropping out

But with no parents and a car.