That Hearse …

A few words of explanation for any apparent dearth of sympathy.

That Hearse …

(A Litany of Grievance)

That hearse … those sick headlines …

us trod underfoot;

crack’d crests and tombstones

to stick in the boot.

Tenners for fivers, casinos and malls;

the moonbeams, the taunting –

it all still appals.

Tramps … thieves …

thugs … beggars –

our mem’ries are long;

famine and blight, cruelly mocked –

that vile song!

Slurs on our icons, a slanderous game;

no substance, no basis –

pure libel, no shame!

Dignity hijacked,

its essence demeaned;

delusions of grandeur

illicitly gleaned:

Taxes, what taxes?

… that’s fine for the rest –

just don’t expect us to pay

to be simply the best!

Well, the game’s up –

the chickens have

come home to roost;

there’s a fox in the hen-coop –

‘ra peepil’ are goosed.

But don’t look for pity,

those deep scars still gnaw;

the insults still rankle …

our wounds way too raw!

Copyright © 25thMay1967, February 2012


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