# Oranges and limes

The bells of York Minster sound out for Easter

“Oranges and limes!”, began one of the chimes,
“Ee, it’s good to be back, though m’ rope’s a bit slack.”

“What I want to know,” said the bell that sounds So,
“We was laid off, but what were t’ reason for that?”

“I don’t rightly know”, said the great bell of Do.

(False ending – i.e. slight pause, during which people who think the song has already finished may start to applaud, only to be interrupted by the the start of the next verse.)

“I’ve news about that”, said the bell tuned Bb.
“News?  Pray announce!”, clanged several at once.

There’s a hole in my #Brexit, dear Jean-Claude, dear Jean-Claude (or #Catch50)

The UK trying to leaving the EU may turn out to be like Captain Yossarian trying to leave the air force, in Catch-22.  I have written a song about this, entitled, “There’s a hole in my Brexit.”  Here are the lyrics.

.

There’s a hole in my Brexit

The people have voted, dear Jean-Claude, dear Jean-Claude.  The people have voted, dear Jean-Claude.  They’ve voted.

For what have they voted, dear Theresa, dear Theresa?  For what have they voted, dear Theresa.  For what?

 

They’ve voted for Brexit, dear Jean-Claude, dear Jean-Claude.  For Brexit, dear Jean-Claude, dear Jean Claude.  For Brexit.

But what means this “Brexit”, dear Theresa, dear Theresa?  But what means this “Brexit”, dear Theresa?  What’s “Brexit”?

 

Why, Brexit means Brexit, dear Jean-Claude, dear Jean-Claude.  Brexit means Brexit, dear Jean-Claude.  Br-exit.

Then do it, dear Theresa, dear Theresa, dear Theresa.  Then do it, dear Theresa, dear Theresa.  Just do it.

# And then you go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “God hates you”

Affectionate parody of Westboro Baptist Church’s own witty parodies of popular songs.

# What a difference a Gay makes!

James Rhodes’ love song to Stephen Fry

Why did the mass  media almost always mention Stephen Fry, in reports of James Rhodes victory in the Supreme Court?  The victory clearing the way for the publication of his book Instrumental, which documents the homosexual abuse of James Rhodes during his childhood?

Was Fry’s intervention really necessary, in order for the public to tolerate Rhodes telling the truth about what happened to him? Will every other survivor of underage homosexual abuse henceforth need the sponsorship of a gay celebrity, to establish his credentials as not-in-the-least homophobic, before he’s allowed to write publicly about his ordeal?  You’d think so, judging by this precedent!

# WHAT A DIFFERENCE A GAY MAKES!

What a difference a gay makes!
Plenty for little cowards
Bought The Sun and the powers
Where I used to be blamed

I guessed a gay would do, dear
A ham.  In part.  On cue.  Queer.
My copyright got through, dear!
“Sins?”, you said.   You were fine.

What a difference a gay makes!
They’re zee Rainbow und zhey’re for me!
Guys whose ” lovin’ ” once tore me –
But that moment in court!  My book’s not a tort!

It’s heavy when you … find homos are agains’ you
What a difference a gay made!
(And how distant from true.)

(c) copyright John Allman MMXV

Lyrics of “What a difference a day makes”

Je suis James

Lost Brother (song lyrics)

These are the lyrics of a song I wrote over a year ago.  When I sing it, I set it to a slow country and western tune, similar to the one for the song D-I-V-O-R-C-E that was performed by Tammy Wynette.  (It was partly that song that gave me the idea for this one.)  It’s a song about a particular type of bereavement, and regret. The first chorus has alternative versions, for US and British audiences, respectively.

–

LOST BROTHER

My baby girl is three years old,
My eyes, her mummy’s hair.
She doesn’t know, must not be told
’bout her brother, who isn’t there.

Her mum and I, we often cry,
’bout the days we met, in school
And we were blessed with a baby boy,
Who’s daddy was a fool.

She’s brought us joy, but I have cried.
My heart has been so torn
Because our son, her brother, died
Before our girl was born.

–

First Chorus

EITHER                                                        

He didn’t live long.
He’d done no wrong.
We thought he’d have to go.
Oh how I wish I’d never heard
Of folks called Wade and Roe.

OR                                                                     

He didn’t live long.
He’d done no wrong.
To us he didn’t seem real.
Oh how I wish he’d never been born …
… that MP, David Steel.

–

She’s brought us joy, but I feel pain,
For the brother she’ll never see.
I weep with shame that our son was slain.
Who killed him?  It was me.

I’d hold my son like I hold his sister
If I had my time again.
I wish we’d stopped that A B O
R T I O N.

–

Second chorus

He didn’t live long.
He’d done no wrong.
They tore him limb from limb.
No matter how many more children I have,
They’ll all remind me of him.

–

(c) copyright John Allman MMXI

Burning the poppy

This poem, which I’ve pinned to the top of the blog because I like it so much, was my response to the 2012 Daily Mail story, Teenager is arrested for burning poppy on Facebook.

BURNING THE POPPY

I choked back my tears, as I pondered the rhyme
On 11/11, at just the right time,
In my home town square, where the wreaths had been laid
And the mayor wore his chain, and the Last Post was played.
“For their tomorrow we gave our today.”
Shall we squander such sorrow?  Throw tomorrow away?

A giddy young man set a poppy alight.
This brave new tomorrow, that’s his human right.
I cannot fathom this young man’s rage,
Which might have “gone viral”, left up on his page.
But was it sincere, the remembrance he tested?
Were we glad or appalled, when this lad was arrested?