795

Theatre seats  2

Arses makes up fer each other fair an’ square

like capons, one grows fat an’ one stays thin.

Chap comes along, plenty room to fit in:

comes another an’ ’e needs a two-man share.

Daft idea it were replace the double chair

wi rows of dickish matchboxes, all rhymin’,

where Stan rattles like a pea in a tin

Olly sits tit twisted, if ’e get there.

In short, mistah ticket-ripper, keep stumm:

’ere’s yer choice: money back wivvart a mutter,

or a seat fer me rump. ’Eeeaaw ouumm,

wot’s so funny, you donkeys in schmutter?

It’s better give cash to profit yer bum.

than bum, like yous, fer yer bread an’ butter.

 

815

The phisolophic caffy-owner

The fowks in the warld is aa an’ yin

tae coffee beans: in the grinder they must,

first one, then anither, anither agin,

but ilkane o’ ’em by the same fate cursed.

Offen they swap, the bansgster bean gin

shother aside the puckle bean first,

but to the iron gate the whole mang drain

where they get smithered down to dust.

An’ yon’s the gait fowk gae in the warld

aa jumbled together by the hand o’ fate

hiddie-giddie they’re tummilt an’ whirled;

ilka in vaige, wha foretimes wha late,

an’ aye onwittand, down they’re aa hurled,

an’ thro’ the hawse o’ death they gang in spate.

 

Title: phisolophic. Other examples of metathesis occur in the sonetti - most commonly grolia for gloria. This licensed the translator to contruct various spoonerisms - libel sellon for Bible lesson, for example, in sonnet 1860.

 

Done in the Edinburgh dialect, a small homage to Robert Garioch (1909-1981), great translator of Belli.

 

874

The minister’s limo

Yeh, that narrer bottleneck off Shoreditch,

right opposite the butcher’s, down the chute

funnels this limo goin’ at full pitch

an’ in the back seat this whistle-an’-flute.

Was right there, the chauffeur sonnovabitch,

goin’ like the clappers, didn’t flash or ’oot,

’cos them wot ’as to swaller ain’t the rich,

an’ ’e clips an’ runs over this old coot.

The wheels mash up ’is legs above the knee,

when they gets ’im ’ome, ’e’s on ’is swan song,

a miracle if ’e lives, they all agree.

The eye-witness report don’t take too long,

so wot yer expeck? The driver goes free,

’cos, y’as to go on foot, y’er in the wrong.

 

906

The world abuildin’

“Wot’s to do so we’ll be able to tell

wot’s behind the stars?” folks were all sayin’.

Joe says: “Wot’s it take? It don’t take nothin’,

we just builds up the Tower of Babel.

Yeh, wi cement, lime, bricks, crane an’ cable,

me master o’ the works, you surveyin’,

put yer backs in it, lads, let’s get workin’!…”

Meantime God laughed ’ard as ’e was able.

They ’ad got up as ’igh as St Paul’s cross

when – wot? – the lingo tangles in their ears,

they can’t get forrard ’cos they’re at a loss.

No one could talk English as yer oughtta;

an’ when one says: “Pass yon sieve o’er ’ere”,

the next bloke ’ands ’im a pail o’ water.

 

940

The touchpaper

Yer little twots, five year old mebbe six,

yer wants ’em already sniffin’ the breeze,

’cos yer look down on the birds an’ the bees,

an’ tells ’em straight: uhm! yer don’t get my tick.

Girls left in the dark! But dear Missus ’Icks,

in London City ain’t there, if yer please,

enough pricks an’ ballocks, a right disease,

in public museums, to make ’em click!

Ah mean, a puppet’s cock will do the trick,

Ah mean, the cock itsell’s enough, its shape,

to let ’em know the purpose o’ the prick.

Fig leafs on the shaft ain’t enough as drape!

The ’ole lot needs coverin’, scrote an’ wick,

wi y-fronts, trousers, an’ a long thick cape.

 

1021

Downsizin’

When the Baron’s lawsuit didn’t go ’is way

’e said to the wife: “Listen ’ere, Yer Grace,

we’re goin’ to ’ave to slacken the pace,

wise up a bit, an’ cut back on outlay”.

In fact, they began by packin’ the case

o’ the kiddy’s tutor: an’ then they say

wot as month by month they pared down the pay

not just o’ outside staff but the ’ole place.

The next thing they did was scratch off the books

all the old servants wot ’ad pension rights

– an’ one went an’ drown ’issell in the brook.

Poor things, scrimp an’ scrape an’ plug the ’oles,

all the shine gone – ’cept they did ’old on tight

to the brothel, the play’ouse an’ the Rolls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1105

The back door

Yer wants to open a snug dive, mebbe,

now yer’ve allus got to make certain, Jack,

wot there’s a little doorway in the back,

like, just fer instance, that un’ there you see.

It’s good fer gettin’ away, natcherly:

but the reason to ’ave it in the shack

is so yer punters can come in a pack

arter ’ours, an’ the Law’s up a gum tree.

A door like that gives yer a flyin’ start.

Should the comin’ an’ goin’s o’ the crew

get reported, an’ yer think yer in the cart,

don’t bovver yer ’ead: it’s nuffin’ to you.

Yer just gotta touch the sarge’s palm an’ ’eart

an’ send the inspector some good shampoo.

 

 

 

 

1240

The ’ollabaloo

Woss up? All this mob! Woss the big event?

Look, look at all the crowd down by St James!

Somebody been kilt, is that wot they claims?

Naw, some tea-leaf wiv the cops on the scent.

Mebbe the cop shop ’as gone up in flames…

Don’t see no smoke. Some loony givin’ vent?

Ah, not even that, ’cos they just all went

astarin’ uppards. So just woss the game?

An’ now they’ve shifted right, all in a row,

see ’em wave. Oh, could be some nutter ’oo

is tossin’ ’issel off art the window!

They laffin’… Ah, Christ! Dunnit make yer rage!

See wot it is? All this ’ollabaloo

fer a bleedin’ budgy broke art the cage.

 

1277

Boys at their lessons

There’s this bright lad, up there at Bernardo’s,

an’ ’e comes on this other kid there ’oo

were learnin’ ’is todger just wot to do,

’e tries ’imsel, an’ ’e gets a right glow.

’Cos ’e don’t want, on ’is very first go,

to leave on the floor a puggle o’ goo,

as many as three times ’e milks that ju’

into a glass, wot ’e then forgets tho’.

Two days after wot ’e’d learned ’ow to rub

’e goes back to check the royal jelly

an’ finds it all stinkin’ an’ full o’ grubs.

Now the Bernardo’s boy ’e ain’t so dumb

an’ ’e says: “This scum is in my belly?!

Fist, go fer it, fist! Maggots, out yer come”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1294

Me daughter-in-law

Me son, yiss, yon dunderin’ addlepate,

got called up the army, an’ did ’is whack,

’e’s ’ome now, an officer, an’ brought back –

’ave a guess! – a wife wot’s a graduate.

Yer should ’ear ’er! “It’s a book wot I rate…

The earth spins… Moon’s full o’ Seleniacs…

Yon chap gets publicked but is just an ’ack…

Yon woman’s a true poet, but not great…”

A man, ’ell! but a woman o’ larnin’

’as to come ’ere an’ bore us all solid

wi’ bleedin’ books an’ sillypollables.

Do yer sewin’, sew, work at yer darnin’;

keep yer ’ouse spik an’ span: bang out the kids,

see to their dinners, an’ don’t break our balls.