Friday, 11 March 2016

Kipling Esq

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Kipling Esq

or Mr Half-Bake

by Philip Lee

kitchen air

never have been coconut shy
once tossed my head through a window
in games of war the first to die
I'm face to face with the pillow

if my country had need of me
mister I'd run a ruddy yard
Kipling be my witness let's see
fiction as fact the lad's boiled hard

here's to baling the fakirs out
up the Khyber without a chute
the band are shitless on milk stout
to feel good doctors should be moot
so tally-ho the blues all shout
tremble kneed on a Turkey shoot

here they go again

these modern British travellers
are not a patch on Phineas Fogg
one stray missile &
they forget to smile
take that Mr and Mrs Hogg

if Fogg refused to be stirred
but had his gin & ice shaken
this sun-struck pair
when asked to repair
home early from Sharm El Sheik

kicked up such palaver
the Hoggs' compensation
began with their
licence to swear
before all the children

they humiliated that poor
girl from the embassy who
was just being
a human being
politely asking them to hold

the line between drama queens
& British stand up comedians
ah mean
the manor of their carry on

how's your father ffs anyone
would think it were Tunisia
all over
again or
a worse state than Lusitania

so please show a trifle
less Shoeburyness your
& grace us
with the old stiff upper

save Fred's jets

wave the t-shirt wear the flag
menthol cigarettes
spoil the party be a drag
heaven save Fred's jets

stick no end of GI bills
in suicide vests
privatise the love that kills
if it saves Fred's jets

hit on youths in tartan skirts
get away with it
take the Bruce out of Wayne's world
to save our Fred's jets

the straight & narrow's never
had it so arm pets
with Playtex® catapults burn
Rome & save Fred's jets

for godsake nothing's sacred
holy cow piglets
get the bastards running scared
only save Fred's jets

no spiders for Ms Muffet

I see the sun is rising
tomorrow at five
aside from wishful thinking
the new moon is fine

what will you do now it's Spring
ransack the archives
put in your quest to be king
wait till June arrives

she's always gone with the plan
lurks behind yr fridge
I see her as Desperate Dan
on a bartered bridge

would have been a battered bride
the oldies know best
their wills aren't swollen with pride
get a woolly vest

yes the sun also rises
it says here in words
there's no need for a crisis
weigh in with the Kurds

Fuzzy-Wuzzy logic

after brimstone rains
across the lands a desolate
stench of righteousness remains

smells just like the argument
for breaking in the squares
& less of a poem than

a rant
tell that
to the friendly

victims of fire
dug in for victory

on the wrong side again