Committees

Ah, committees they are such fun and so, so transparent…

Committee Ditty

Oh, we’re really nice people
And we sit on committee
‘Specially selected
‘Cos we don’t feel pity

Chorus

Yes we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On tea and bickies day

Oh, we’re nice committee people
But we don’t like to question
‘Cos the Chair knows
We’re open to his every suggestion

Chorus

Yes, we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On a free lunch day

Yes, we’re all committee people
And we’re ever so nice
‘Cos Chief Exec knows
Rubber stamping’s our vice

Chorus

Yes , we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On wine tasting day

Yes, we’re Authority members
And we’re such a sham
We may well turn up
But we don’t give a damn

Chorus

Yes, we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On back-hander day

© Trevor Morgan 1985

Calling Card

I find dark comedy easier than the light variety!

The arsenic waltz

Had a great visit today to the National Trust property at Killerton in Devon.  This included a  display on the history of dyes. One display moved me to write this:

Green Dyes
In a display at Killerton there was a description of early green dyes. There was a problem with fixing green dyes so large amounts of arsenic were used. This could be interesting, or dangerous, or deadly consequences when the cloths were worn.

The Arsenic Waltz

Your dress is pure green
So your skin’s turning white
With blue lips – how they sheen
You’ll be dead by tonight

© T.Morgan

 

 

Cup of coffee

I must confess to a caffeine addiction.  I am down to two cups in the morning and an occasional espresso when out and about.  However not at any of the big chain coffee shops and tax dodgers.

 

Hot coffee for the slightly tired
May well soon turn the spirit up.
From slowing down to full hot wired
It’s all there in a steaming cup.

A Limerick for Lagarde

Now that Lagarde of the IMF has joined in on project Fear that is trying to scare us all into staying as a peripheral province in the European Empire of the Oligarchs. I am not moved to feel any fear.

The IMF that she runs has a track record on economic predictions. More often than not they are wrong. They did a good job with Greece and have ongoing works in progress in Portugal, Spain and Italy and have brought economic misery to lots of places in the impoverished third world. They have long been unfit for purpose.

 

A Limerick for Lagarde

The IMF has loudly now said
By leaving we will end all dead
In the past all their predictions proved wrong
Yet they harp on and sing this daft song
Poor Lagarde has gone quite off her head

King Lemming

It is easy to rush into things thinking you are able to make a difference. But not everything always works out all that well.

King Lemming

I met this lemming on the road
He had no fear of heights
And purposeful away he strode
To go and see great sights

The higher up you go you see
The furthest sights of all
On high cliffs here above the sea
That lemming met his fall

Acceleration’s quite a thing
As t’wards the beach you fly
That lemming felt just like a king
Yes, he knew how to die

There is a red smear on a rock
King like, he’d passed that way,
Whilst foolish peasants stand and mock
His was a glorious day

There’s glory in a steady rise
There’s glory in it all
As lemming’s rain down from the skies
– So all the great must fall!

6 December 2002

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mighty Sultan

Some like to lead from the front but not all…

The Mighty Sultan

Indolent Sultan of Egypt
Would like to be killing his foes
That’s when he wasn’t on the toilet
Or discretely blowin’ his nose.
He’d need a break for his breakfast,
Another for biscuits and tea.
He couldn’t do a jot when smokin’ his pot;
First things must come first – Don’t you see?
The hareem would give him more stress
As he slaved there by day and by night
And it caused him yet more distress
With all those wars there to fight.
DUTY it carries such burdens,
KINGS carry their burdens in style.
When hordes invaded his borders,
Invading right over the Nile,
He gave magnanimous orders,
He gave them with such a coy smile.
“The army must take ship upstream
And fight to the very last man
My duty’s here in the hareem
I’ll think of you whenever I can”

© T Morgan 1999

The Spleen in Bed Number Four

You may feel that you are quite whole
To doctors you’re just one more chore
You may feel that you have a soul
But one day you may be no more
Than the “spleen in bed number four”

Yes doctors must be in control
In all the decisions they take
So you’ll be deprived of your soul
And it’s all for science’s sake

Reduced to an organ you’ll lie
Somewhere that they “care” for the sick
As your soul takes flight and you die
The records clerk notes with a tick

No matter how hard you have tried
Despite all you’ve done here before
Their note will record that you died
As the “spleen in bed number four”

© December 2005 by Trevor Morgan

Council Park-keeper – Jobsworth

Don’t we all just love public officials especially petty public officials. Take some of the keepers of our public parks:

Council Park-keeper – Jobsworth

There were aliens on the bowling green
Where they oozed out their slime.
They said they had come quite a way.
They’d come through space and time.

These aliens messed the bowling green,
They cluttered up the lawn.
And I don’t care where they have been
I was not going to fawn.

Their breath smelt like they had drunk bleach.
Their bodies oozed with goo.
I pointed out the bye-law’s breach,
Well, what else could I do?

Their space time capsule was first rate.
But I couldn’t let them pass.
Not only had they come too late –
They must “Keep off the grass”!

They said they thought I led the earth
They said a little more
Then just to show they knew my worth
They told me “…this meant war!”

Now that the park is there no more
An’ another thing to mention
That now the whole wide world’s at war
Will this affect my pension?

Copyright T Morgan 14.3.2003

Bow Legged Buck

A bow legged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
The wanted such love
But well – maybe –
They’ll find it a chore
They find it to so strained
Yet for their loving
Neither Complained

The bed was no good
The table all right
So that’s where they spent
Their first lovin’ night

Getting together
Though it was a chore
Is somethin’ they’re doin’
Now more an’ more

But then with love
The question it begs
How love finds a way
Through a mismatch of legs

A bow legged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
Enjoyin’ such love
And though – maybe –
They find it a chore
They find it a strain
Yet for this loving
Neither Complain

Copyright Trevor Morgan 10.11.2002