Glad Eye

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for Steve Doolan

*

A man saw a maid, dancing high on a hill

She was wild as the waves of the sea

I’m thinking, he thought, that she’s looking my way

And she sure has a glad eye for me

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?

No, sir, she said, ‘tis a trick of the light

You’re deceived, for I’m looking elsewhere

And ‘tis only by chance that my mischievous glance

Has been caught by your curious stare

 …

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?

 …

How she danced, how she danced, on the top of the hill

How she swirled like a cloud in the blue

Appearing to flirt with a flick of her skirt

And the bat of an eyelash or two

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?

 …

She was here, she was gone, she was there, she was gone

As the moon on the wings of the fay

For a moment, the light, then the fall of the night

Then the smile, then the looking away

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?

Now your man was a no nonsense sensible cove

And time waits for no man, nor he

It was tea-time, and late, so he asked the girl straight

What’s with the glad eye for me?

 …

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?


She stopped for a moment, up high on the hill

And she blushed to the prettiest pink

Why, no sir, she lied, there’s just stuff in my eye

And your man is mistaken in drink

 …

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?


He thought for a minute, there wasn’t much in it

And tea had a finer appeal

So he bid her good day, in a chivalrous way

Doffed his hat, and then turned on his heel

 …

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?


Come back!  she said, ‘Twas all bullshit!  she said

Though my fancy is fickle, ‘tis true

You may take me, or leave me, but better believe me

I so have a glad eye for you

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no?

 …

He thought to himself, she’s a right silly lass

But she sure has a glad eye for me

So he beckoned her down from the top of the hill

And took her back home for some tea

 …

I may do, I might do, but how would ye know

Whether my glad eye’s for you, boy, or no

For truly it’s really quite tricky to tell

Whether your man has a glad eye as well

 *

© Gail Foster 5th October 2016

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Seven Year Itch

seven year itch (2)

 

 

Seven Year Itch

*

your seven year itch;

flare of eczema infected

raw sore and weeping

 *

your shattered hour glass;

irritating grains of sand

debriding old skin

 *

your fingernail scratch;

sacrificial blood letting

scarification

*

your allergic rash;

self-fulfilling prophecy

psycho somatic

*

my fragility;

remedied with wisdom’s balm

time passing quietly

*

by Gail

Election Dis Function

With apologies to good Tories, the merely misguided and those who are offended by swearing…

Election Dis Function

The parties are all over

Fat smug ladies have sung

Today we know our Parliament

Is not Well Hung

 

A loud triumphal snort was heard

As Georgie passed the line

We’ve got a Tory Government

And the rich will do just fine

 

Corks have been popping

Lemons have been sucked

We’ve got us a new Parliament

And the poor are F***ed

 

Farewell to the old guard

Their ghostly voices haunt the halls

Now there’s a new Government

That’s got no Balls

 

In the graveyard there’s an Edstone

Under which Nick sleeps uneasy

We’ve got us a new Parliament

And Farage is feeling queasy

 

Now we’ll all be shafted

By old Etonians and bankers

We’ve got a right wing Government

You put them there, you w***ers

 

Hoorah for the posh boys

Break out the champagne and the coke

You voted in the Tories!

What a f***ing joke