Grimbeau

Scroodles

Jesters at Vespers

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After Sylvester evensong, Loyola piped up:

‘Out with the Pianola!’

And

(As Nasturtiums have for donkey’s years)

We were ready to kick out the jambs

The Easter Lambs & heaven could wait a quarter

Priscilla the Pig, our Abbot, dressed as Emile Zola

Got the  ball rolling with the much lauded Tombola.

 

A fine thing, like some tradition,

The Tombola of the Tropaeolum:

 

We put our Bull into a hat

Pull out the winner

And a new year

Doctrine is chosen

A fresh true rumour

To add to the credo

This is followed by

A game of sardines

An eternal favourite

 

 

 

Factory Records

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I

have neither direct pictorial

nor documentary evidence for it,

my first quarter on earth,

except

what those directly involved have told me,

confirmed by their satellites.

 

All a bit vague if you think about it

 

The first thought is adoption,

the second hospital error,

third,

unwanted from a relative or neighbour;

alien invasion,

Son of God,

& Timewarps

follow once you start.

(At least it was not Shandy Hall and its annoying horology).

 

I

did see my mum from time to time

in her incubated space.

She smiled from hollow cheeks

fought the maggots eating the belly wound

from where I had been sprung.

 

My dad was shy and did not get pushy

about seeing me till things calmed down a bit.

He did not pick me up and rock me till we got home:

After he did I never cried again, it is said.