Journey to Magnolia

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – I won’t paint my walls in anything but you.
Magnolia, Magnolia – not yellow or purple or pink or blue.

I went into the travel agent to book my holiday.
But when it came to asking where I wanted to stay,
A particular word stuck in my head and refused to go away.
Outer Magnolia, Magnolia – is the place to go, they say
Outer Magnolia, Magnolia – please take me there today.

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – I won’t paint my walls in anything but you.
Magnolia, Magnolia – not yellow or purple or pink or blue.

So, on a flight to Nizhny Novgorod and a train to far Irkutsk
I dozed off to the drone of throat singing, dreamt of Gobi’s sandy dunes
Magnolia, Magnolia – to you I dedicate this tune.
Magnolia, Magnolia – my ardent pleas were quite mistook.

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – I won’t paint my walls in anything but you.
Magnolia, Magnolia – not yellow or purple or pink or blue.

When I got home, I noticed my ceiling, it needed a new coat.
My skirting boards had gone off-white, their dust caught in my throat.
I’ve looked at the whole colour chart, from Alabaster to Xanadu
But Magnolia, Magnolia – there’s no place on my wall for any paint but you.

[Security, we have a disturbance in the home decorating section, near the tins of emulsion
Security – please remove the gentleman dressed in a pointy hat and fur boots immediately.]

Magnolia! I’ll paint my hall with ya,
The most ubiquitous paint of any hue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – you’re not yellow, or purple, or pink or blue.
Magnolia, Magnolia – some things are best not sung about in B&Q.

Brexit Blues

Tories they are in meltdown, they’re going round the bend
The Tories are in meltdown, they’re going round the bend
When we voted for Brexit, seismic shockwave we did send.

It was felt all the way to Dublin, and far-off Athens too
It was felt all the way to Dublin, far-off Athens too
Syriza caved in to Brussels, and the Greeks were feeling blue.

That damned Lisbon Treaty, Thatcher’s proudest boast
I said, that damned Lisbon Treaty, Thatcher’s proudest boast
It privatised our railways, and privatised our post.

Their flag may be blue in colour, but it ain’t got no soul.
Their flag is blue in colour, but it ain’t got no soul.
The posted workers’ directive, chucked thousands on the dole.

I ain’t gonna be no hamster, ain’t nobody’s guinea pig.
I ain’t gonna be no hamster, ain’t nobody’s guinea pig.
Sinking deep in Eton mess, this problem’s way too big.

There’s one man who can pull us out, and he is called J C
I said, there’s one man who can help us, his name it is J C
But this ain’t no second coming, it ain’t no epiphany.

Let’s chuck out Blairite turncoats, they are not our friend.
Get rid of Blairite traitors, they’ve never been our friend.
We need a socialist Europe, we need austerity to end.

All around the Clocktower (apologies to Bob Dylan)

“There must be some kind of a way outta here”, said Sir Soulsby to the thief.
“There’s way too much crosstown traffic, I’ve got to build me a relief
road through Aylestone Meadows. JCBs dig my earth.
None of our fifty Labour councillors, have any idea what its worth”.

“No reason to get excited”. The thief, he kindly spoke.
“There are many here among us, who think you are but a joke.
But you and I, we know the score, and this is not our fate.
Here is a shiny £1 coin, payment for Braunstone Gate.”

All around the Clocktower – the homeless slept right through
buskers endlessly busking, and street preachers too.
Outside, by cold Welford Road, the Tigers they did roar.
Two riders were approaching, Leicester rain began to pour.

We’re on the side of workers

 

Vote TUSC – video showing there is an alternative to cuts.

 

To the tune of “Blue is the colour” (should be “Red is the colour”, in the case of TUSC).

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

We will fight your cause,

Join you on the picket line,

Campaign to save your job.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

If you’re bullied by the boss,

On zero-hour contracts

Or confused and at a loss.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

We will stand against the tide.

The main parties offer nothing

But we are on your side.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

You won’t find us on the news,

‘Cos the media are scared of us

Don’t want to hear our views.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

That includes the unemployed.

Share out the hours in the week,

Industry has been destroyed.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

Join us in our campaign.

Renationalise the railways,

Stop cuts which cause us pain.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

We will save the NHS.

From private, profiteering vultures

Who don’t care about illness.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

New Labour shall be no more

We need a left alternative

To even up the score.

 

TUSC is on the side of workers

We won’t give up the fight.

We can organise and win back

What should be ours by right.

 

 

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You can read some of my poetry in ‘Little Red Poetry’ (£4 pbk, £2.50 pdf e-book).

All proceeds go to build a new party for ordinary people, against cuts and privatisation. 

Copies are also available from Left Books

 

Medley

We’re fracking, we’re fracking – I’m gonna frack it with you.
Going underground, going underground,
I’m goin’ deeper underground.
Underground, overground, wombling free,
Like an atom bomb, about to oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, explode.

Two minutes to midnight – the hands that threaten doom.
One, two, three o’ clock, four o’clock, rock!
You – shook me all night long!
Sharia don’t like it – rockin’ the Casbah, rock the Casbah.
What is it good for? Absolutely nothing!

And I’m a heatseeker, gonna burn up your town.
I’ve got a fever of 103,
Ooooh, I’m on fire.
Frack, baby, frack, show me you’re real.
Dirty deeds, and they’re done dirt cheap.

Get up, stand up! Stand up for your rights.
Excuse me Mr Officer, murderer,
Don’t stop me now! I’m having such a good time.
Come and do the jailhouse rock with me. Let’s rock!
I stand in front of you, I’ll take the force of the blow.
Protection.

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You can help support the Socialist Party by buying a short book of my poems, ‘Little Red Poetry’: