Poet’s Corner

Welcome to Poet’s Corner. Or maybe we should say “Poets’ Corner” since we seem to have quite a few poets in our midst. Thought it was about time we started bringing them together. Like everything else, this page is a work in progress. If you’ve been inspired to verse by the Brewers’ shenanigans, feel free to add your own contributions via the comments.

Now, sit back and enjoy. We start with Pax Vobiscum’s wonderful epic:

The Texan Bookstore Massacre

Long ago, way back when
bookshops still employed freethinking men,
there were some shops called SPCK
who let the managers runs things their way.
For years this was great and everyone did thrive
but after a while sales took a nosedive.

So SPCK gave away all its stores, staff and stock
to a bunch of rich Texans, it was a bit of a shock.
The Texans were lawyers and Orthodox too,
they hated the Brits and the shops they did screw.
They changed all the rules, threw our contracts away
and told us to work each week, everyday.
And just when you’d worked from dusk until dawn
they’d command you to go and mow their church lawn.
They made staff redundant with no redundancy
saying ‘if you want wages, then just you sue me.’
They declared themselves bankrupt in the good ole US,
But got Contempt of Court ‘cos their papers were a mess.
They hated the thought of UK Employment Law
and were taken to task by the union USDAW
(at least thirty times – which is a lot you will see
as SPCK staff numbered one hundred and fifty.)

People were fired by email, by proxy, by stealth
as the Texans ran off with the stock on the shelf.
They wouldn’t pay pensions, tax or suppliers,
but if you complained your prospects were dire.
Against all agreements many shops they did close
and started new companies before assets were froze.
When asked what they’d done they said ‘it is not me,
it is all your own fault, we’re good, don’t you see?’
Two years after they started, like Ozymandias stands
the remains of the shops, being covered by sands
as by winds of recession our nation is battered
and the Texans’ dark deeds have a proud heritage shattered.

Next, some Songs for Justice:

Whatever It Takes, by Phil Groom

We’ll do it with cats,
we’ll do it with mice,
we’ll do it with bats,
we’ll never think twice —
whatever it takes
to expose all the lies,
the blusters and fakes,
the silly disguise —
it’s all coming out now,
all over the world,
there’s nowhere to hide now:
let truth be unfurled!

A Round of Mew-sic, by Mousey

You are bad guys, playing at good guys,
Brewers, it’s time to think –
shop-working folks were harmed by your hoax.
Now, Brewers, you`re on the brink.
You need someone older and wiser, telling you what to do.
There’s St Francis, who could tame wolvsies. We wish he’d take care of you.
Cats in choir dresses, with out of tune mewings.
Some legal eagle to suss out your doings.
Mice swung from ass-tails
watch Lord of the Rings.
These are a few of our precious-est things.

Front-page of Church Times showed mice. Have you seen ’em?
They could sort werewolves with zilch brains between ’em.
May Bloggpuss clobber you; Purr-Titian sing!
And the cartoonists crown Dave Walker King . .

Goodbye, so-long, auf wiedersehn, goodnight
This Brewer-beast is not a pretty sight!
Tum-tiddle-tiddle, diddle dee,
Brewers you’re all at sea.
The sun has headed west – and so should you-oo
before you meet the silver-bullet crew-oo
They’ll fight…
all right!

Werewolves of Durham, by Anne

I saw a lawyer with “Books in Print” in his hand,
walking the streets of old Durham Town
He was looking for a place called “SPCK Books,”
Gonna buy it and bring it down
Ah-ooh! Werewolves of Durham

If you hear him speechifying at your cathedral door,
better not let him in.
Three or four people got desisted late last night.
Werewolves of Durham again
Ah-ooh! Werewolves of Durham.

He’s the sweetly talking gent who ran amok in Kent,
and several other English locations
Better stay away from him, He might not pay you, Jim.
I wish he’d take a permanent vacation.
Ah-ooh! Werewolves of Durham.

I haven’t seen him walking with the Queen,
she’s probably too smart for that.
I haven’t seen his brother walking with the Queen.
She’d probably ask him what happened to the tax.
I haven’t seen him drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic’s
But his accounting is perfect.
Ah-ooh! Werewolves of Durham.
Draw blood

More poems will be added soon: watch this space; or feel free to add your own below…

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