Off with the mud and on with the uniform,
on with the motley and off with the dreams.
After the mornings and woods and streams
and rabbit hutches and cricket teams,
life comes upon us like a storm -
What do you want to be then, Norm,
when you grow up?
A poet?!
And you, boy? Me, sir? I don't know ...
I like the country more than the town,
I like being out when the rain's pouring down,
I like being dirty and wet and alone,
I'd like being mossy, I'm no rolling stone,
I love the moon,
love frost and snow -
Can I - oh can I - be a scarecrow?
*
Since metamorphosis I have lost
and loved and married and lost again
and been a hero on the booze
and held a job since AD 10 -
I just couldn't afford to lose
that job though I lost
my prime and my pride -
I learnt the life of a battery-hen:
I had to keep laying eggs no matter what it cost.
A fool and his wife are soon parted.
A lovely white wedding, a little white lie,
a way of life no sooner started
than a smile, a sudden sigh
severs them like a surgeon's knife:
a smile, a sigh,
or less than that - nothing,
a slit in a skirt, a glimpse of thigh -
enough, enough, God knows, for some to end up
broken-hearted.
