The Clamp
It came from a wreck,
An automobile of dubious ownership
Green with rust coloured trim
The name on the slip was faded to grey
A man of great substance
No wealth just a whole lot of nothing
The fine was mighty too mighty to care
Put a hole in the tyre, Dear Alfred she
Roared across the divide between her
World and theirs.
Yellow triangle with black trim
Dublin Corporation in proud script
Do not remove below.
The large giving the name
The small removing the gain
He was a cantankerous man
Of medium height and of lower measure
In the department where thoughts flowed
And dreams were meant to be formed.
It wasn’t they didn’t like him, or even hated
It was more akin to some form of deepest
Despise which permetated their laughter
Clamped Mr Purcell, you have been clamped
The world must surely pause its eternal progress
The powers that be may wait with bated breath
The cats may stop moaning and the dogs stop fooling
Until the problem is solved, the solution found
The raison d’etre is revealed, deduced and recovered
Get me the number of this so called corporation
Dial the digits, man the ford, line up the women
We are going to war and all hell will pay
“We have no record Mr Purcell, no record at all”
“You have the auto clamped Mr Corporation man”
“No we haven’t Mister”
“I’ve seen it myself”
“Were you left out for the day?”
“What the?”
Beep Beep Beep
Hello, Hey, come back
Right lads get me a car, a van, a bicycle, whatever
I am heading for the office of the boys in blue
Right you are Sir, right you are.
Hold on where’s it gone
It’s gone, It’s gone, it’s disappeared
What Mr Purcell
The clamp the clamp the heathen clamp
What Clamp Mr Boss
The one you showed me not but five minutes ago
No such recollection can I recall
He wondered many a day and a whole lot of nights
But no one would reveal the ghost he lost that day
©Francie McGivney
Words I love to write 