rotherwood

Under Rother Wood

To begin at the beginning:
Starless night and bible black.
Hush the Goths are sleeping.
In their Stygian nightmare walls of torpor,
They brood upon the hair dye No1.
Through the streets and down the Hill,
The Canklow-ite has taken flight.
For the law, the Mother in law;
Who wants her best lamp shade back.
To the fetid swamps of Ferham,
Where waste and life wasted,
Sits and stinks and stinks and sit.

Listen;
Old Captain Salt is stirring.
Blinded without the jam jar bottles,
He twists and turns another night.
Hold me, Captain, I'm Woolly Barber.
I lost my sight from tight fisted strokes,
While watching Love Island.

The thin night darkens.
And wanders home, the Liquid crowd,
Back to East Dene to sleep,
With dreams of Dole.

Dean Smales 2005