Hickory Dickory Dock
The shepherd gathers his flock.
He shears his ewe’s,
In one’s and twos.
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Hickory Dickory Dock
The herdsman looks at the clock.
He stops at three,
to have some tea.
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Hickory Dickory Dock
The farmer rests on a rock.
With four bags full
of soft warm wool,
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Hickory Dickory Dock.
The wife, she knits him a sock.
With five socks more,
strewn on the floor.
Hickory Dickory Dock.

Dark settles on the walls, the street lamp blinks light,
dies, then blinks again. A moth- stuck inside the room-
pares its wings on the glass, falls to the windowsill,
then does it again. My eyelids do the same.    

I imagine his mouth; the ghosts under  
his tongue slide through the cracks of his teeth,  
find mine, stay there. And the birds at the  
backs of our eyes drink too much to leave.    

Looking through a concrete barricade,
of a forever standing fence.
Edifices created to keep me in,
while jailers whip me with the price of wages.
When I am but a dime a dozen
of evil task masters that only see green.
I recognize the means to their grab bag hands.

Winds ferociously growl
with weather most awfully foul.
some trees buckle and bend in the sway,
blown by the blustery day.

The sky is overdressed,
with swaddles of cotton soft pressed
churning clouds of rumble and tumble
‘til water sluices crumble.

Pouring buckets to earth
that skip into puddles of mirth,
falling down from the heavens in pelts,
drum beating watery welts.

Until all is unhinged
and vapours are beautifully tinged
with vermilion dazzling drops.
after the torrid rain stops.

Silently, under cover of darkness
an elephant child is born.
He feels the comfort of his mothers trunk
as he blinks in the first light of dawn.

The monkeys cry “it’s a boy, it’s a boy,
and look at him isn’t he cute”.
A male gorilla drum beats his chest,
and the bonobo throws them some fruit.

The forest is filled with lively chatter,
from excitable chimpanzees.
Juvenile Infants play peek-a-boo
while their mothers watch from the trees.

Oh yes, my mother! You are an age-old ragged banner,
fluttering in the stormy winds of beastly corruption,
over the broken highways and footpaths of hopeless hope,
trodden with the spiky jackboots of nasty politics.

Yet we are the tough strings, tightly holding your upper ends,
and tying tight to withering branches of ‘conomy;
Yet we are the unbreakable pieces of heavy stone,
hanging like heavy medals from your crippling lower ends.

Driving through the snow
On a freezing winter day
It’s to the shops they go
Down the motorway.

They’re out to buy some things
Much to our delight
We love to hear those sweet chick chings
Throughout the day and night.

Chorus:

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun to hear the sound
Of profit everyday.

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun to hear the sound
Of profit everyday.

An Urban Autumn Tale

Christmas wishes voiced in young October
generate a mournful sigh of noise
from a harried, working single mother
who knows she can’t afford the latest toys

as she cleans the mealtime’s meager leavings,
both her daughters giggling away,
she wipes her eyes as well as supper dishes
and in her troubled soul begins to pray

CRASH!
the thunder went, lights are out
power shut.
We feel through the dark til we find each other.
I hear you breathing,
loudly
but steady. I
put my hand on your chest to feel your
rhythmically dancing heart.
I smell your skin and I am filled with the must of your cologne.
I drink in the silence as I stare into the abyss of darkness.
The hair on your neck raises as the soft wind goes by.
Lip to Lip we meet once again as if I have found my better half.

Your words mean more, I know the score
You spoke to me of love and trust,
Then took my heart and made it burst
It hurt me so, It hurt me so

Now can you talk to me of love?
We both now know that love will die,
If trust of each is built on lies
I need to know, I need to know

I will await your words in truth
We need to work for better days
In that our love is safe always.
A truth is told, a truth is told