The shamble leg man sat in the park under a tree and watched the hoopoes pickling; oop-oop-oop went the wee birdies, legs doving, oop-oop-oop. He listened to the birds oople until his ears belled and chin stiffened. He lit a half one and spat a cud of brown smoke through the scab of his lips. ‘…the doys are gatting langer…’ said the alms man through clenched teeth. ‘…yes, so they are…’ said the legless man hollowly. ‘…su’en thay’ll be no doys at awl…’. ‘…nary a day at all…’said the legless man. ‘…nory a wun…’.
Surrounded by cowbells and marigolds the man in hat takes a nap, his sou’wester cradled in the barrows of his fob. Off in the way far a tiny man with a big head sits pleasantly beneath the shade of a sprawling elm, his head flopping from side to side. ‘…tomorrow is today…’ said the tiny man with the big head, ‘…never too late to learn a new trick…’. The sun coo-cooed, the clouds puff-puffed and the sky bellowed in laughter. ‘…and nory a wun…’. ‘…nary a day at all…’. Cowbells and marigolds, fobs to the lot of yea.
In Praha in the village of Hlavni Mesto a boy bounces an Indian rubber ball with the flaps of his hands, his mother tallying the day’s recipes in a wee small ledger. ‘…you’re a dodgy cunt you are…’ said the boy to his mama ma. ‘…all that ledgering and not a pisspot to tosspot in…’. His mamma ma caught him under the chin with a left hook, his jawbone cricketing into the back of his head. ‘…that’ll teach you to cuss out your mamma ma…!. ‘…lousy fish…’ he said under his breath, ‘...to hell with you, you sad louse…!’ His mamma ma, getting ear and quip of her son’s whisper, said ‘…wee shit…!’ Surrounded by marigolds and cowbells, the sun coo-cooing, the sky bellowing, nory a wun, nary a wun atoll. The tricks in the tricking, fuck the lot of yea!
Surrounded by cowbells and marigolds the man in hat takes a nap, his sou’wester cradled in the barrows of his fob. Off in the way far a tiny man with a big head sits pleasantly beneath the shade of a sprawling elm, his head flopping from side to side. ‘…tomorrow is today…’ said the tiny man with the big head, ‘…never too late to learn a new trick…’. The sun coo-cooed, the clouds puff-puffed and the sky bellowed in laughter. ‘…and nory a wun…’. ‘…nary a day at all…’. Cowbells and marigolds, fobs to the lot of yea.
In Praha in the village of Hlavni Mesto a boy bounces an Indian rubber ball with the flaps of his hands, his mother tallying the day’s recipes in a wee small ledger. ‘…you’re a dodgy cunt you are…’ said the boy to his mama ma. ‘…all that ledgering and not a pisspot to tosspot in…’. His mamma ma caught him under the chin with a left hook, his jawbone cricketing into the back of his head. ‘…that’ll teach you to cuss out your mamma ma…!. ‘…lousy fish…’ he said under his breath, ‘...to hell with you, you sad louse…!’ His mamma ma, getting ear and quip of her son’s whisper, said ‘…wee shit…!’ Surrounded by marigolds and cowbells, the sun coo-cooing, the sky bellowing, nory a wun, nary a wun atoll. The tricks in the tricking, fuck the lot of yea!
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