I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Options, sent to where I saw him, on the telly, years ago, He was oppo when I wrote it, so I sent the letter to him Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, "Albo, of The Undertow" And an answer came directed, in hindsight as expected, And I think the same was written by a bloke behind a bar; 'Twas his PR guy what wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it, "Albo's at the Forum schmoozing and he don't care where you are" In my moments nearly troppo, visions come to me of Albo Gone a rovin' down near Davos where the Western traitors go; And the stock price northwards swinging Albo trots behind them singing, For the traitor's life has pleasures that the rest of us can't know. And the slopes have friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him In the murmur of the hookers in the strip joints and the bars; And he sees the vision pretty of the fifteen minute city, And at night the wondrous glory of the Chinese 'lectric cars. I am sitting in my homemade wooden armchair, where a cool-aid Drinking loony struggles feebly from the nightly tv news; And the foetid air and gritty of the masked up, jabbed up hippy, Through the telly, on like clockwork, spreads hysteria for views. And in place of cocktail parties I can hear the blocked up art'ries From the fibrous clots, and ambos making hurry down the street; And the talk of fibrillation and strokes in young, our nation Learns a new and censored language if you dare just dare repeat. And the hurrying people daunt me and their masked-up faces haunt me, As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste; With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy, For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste. And I wouldn't mind to have-a-go, to swap a week with Albo, Like to take a turn at rovin' where the UN cabal goes; While he ran the parish council, with agenda and financials - But I doubt he'd suit the vestry, Albo, of "The Undertow".
Discussion about this post
No posts
There was movement at the Parliament, for the beer was passed around, 'cause the dolt with no regret had gone away
And had joined the global forces, to go and down another round,
Telling all his cronies we would pay
Mr Patterson would be envious