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smallstepsmadpotepotriemantheartfulcodgerscogterransvoice


Homeless


My pint of beer cost one and six

When we had pounds and pence

And we were Britain and we were great

Before this Euro pretense.

And travel by train was such a joy

Cocooned In a world of your own

No laptop, or tablets or pc's

And no dreadful mobile phone.


No internet for evening chats

Or, for quickly spreading news.

No social media sites for 

Exchanging controversial views.

So much has changed since that time

Yet much is still the same.

The rich get richer the poor get poorer

Adding to our national shame.


But at least the hungry can watch

Master Chef with thanks

As they eek out their meagre wages

With donations from food banks

And from their social housing

Watch richer folk as they roam

Around and round the country side

Looking for their fantasy homes.


Also very comforting when seen

From sleeping bags on the street
Through a lighted shop window

By a hopefully safe retreat
And for every single night 

The homeless persons’ test,

Sleeping safe without attack

And avoiding police arrest.



And as the Tories tell us 

As they dodge their tax and blether,

You may be having it hard old man

But we're all in this together.

They are the children of Thatcher

Although in no way related 

Just the latest spawning of

Politician she created.


My pint now costs three pounds plus.

There are still beggars on the street 

And the return to Victorian values

Is now almost complete.

Things may not have been so different

With pounds and shillings and pence

But at least the Tories then didn't think 

We were idiots with little common sense.



 







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