1917 & other observations

دون الإخلال

for Zerox Quid
είναι όλα ελληνικά για μένα

I

in the cotton picking moment

in the long pause before foreign wars

laid waste the international banking laws

his mission was piped in ochre balls

we're not asking you to steal the crown jewels

go East young sport & sow yr oats ferret out

some hydra-harried rose for comfort camouflage

yourself in that pack of confidence tricks

yr grandpa perfected from the pulpit

play hard & duplicate yr monthly report

tucked between the lines of a poetry mart

not under the counter just so darned smart

those Limey dicks'll die puzzling out

quoth his mentor over Harvard lunch

now be a good sort and pass the port

he took his trusty plume in hand

he took his wolfram wand of the purple end

in no time caught the minxsome foal with eyes

so swart she blacked his name

while boosting his fame in the views

of other ex-pats on the parlour game

Quid of the 'baccy swoon balling

zeroxed banknotes down the vales

of maidens & fielding Pinkerton Man

to Winston Churchill's Cousin Sam

stroked his early white beard & spoke

in onion seller's antic cant

you've gone straight native Uncle Tom pipped

by your own lip truly rabbit holed tant pis

well enjoy this dead end pier I'm off on me hols

leave you to tinker with the mother ship

II

snot on an old man's lapel is all

the watch & chain he could pocket

laid off forty years before retirement

his rack-a-hoo trailing off into that sunset smile

where all who snout & snifter lie down the while

yet shield your eyes sonny man and see

surf breaking on The Strand

driftwood of wrecks coming in to land

bald head on the shoulder-block of youth

antiquated thought dolled-up as youth

become the latest high falutin' fad

as off-course tipster to the owl gang

if lucky you'll twit one last ignoble

Iscariot hanging out at Uttoxeter

or failing that bag yrslf a spying Helot

III

a game of cheese

my hair is bad tonight

she says to me

I say the wind is up

she prays

what the devil

I repeat my dear

the wind the yellow wind

put your teeth in she snores

so that I may hear

& I reflect

it's up again

you jealous creep

don't bother me

with that she groans

& goes back to sleep

IV

here's a good 'un overheard at Margate Metropole

as we were sate next to Willie Maugham & Co

that German naval attaché in Geneva

tall green yacht fella on lake whatchamacallit

six inch shells concealed i'the fo'c'sle

his great uncle Heimie lost a leg at Gettysburg

says that if Amerikar came into the war

would treat every table at the casino

to a bottle of Bollinger a politician

mind you neglects to tell on which side

so our British coz by his ma & in-laws

related to THREE US presidents

not to be outdone orders champagne all round

which Fritz Whathisface disdains to swallow

proving thereby no sausage-eater was ever a sportsman

cabled this to Chicago for the Spring edition

in hopes to be on time for once

V

render unto Caesar I say unto Quid

can't blame a fellow for being a snipcock

went to school with one his pa made millions

out of workwear pour les ouvriers

first rate chap just an accident of birth

even the Great Lord Himself was of the persuasion

till he swept the lizards from The Temple

what sticks in yr craw Zerox old sport is that

while promises on Palestine and the Hejeira

play each other out the war is decided not

on the battlefield but by schnozzled old

Rothsteins & Weitzmans in oak panelled rooms

belching brandy fumes through fat cigars

to the tune of fine young men losing life & limb

for percentage points on a ticker machine

he says sell that to the fishwives of Nantucket

VI

so a poor odd-jobber must suffice

to put a start and an end to the sacrifice

doubtless eats pork'n'beans from a tin

lives alone in a squalid room

parts his rug with a metal comb

& ends each day stinking of resin

the auguries are propitious

if not unpredicted Medusa's

hair so deuced she takes her pill

the helot drunk on dregs of wine

while outside mustard gasses belch & spill

if the deed were done at all

'twere better done i'the East

downstairs supper clatters in the sink

a club foot scrapes in the hall

the blighter puts on a thin coat

& closes the front door

Eliot T Stern plods mutt-infested streets

where the yellowish curls of fat armed matrons

bare to the elbows lean through sash windows

spitting fag-ends from blistered lips

impregnating the quarter of new foreigners

brought in to replace such Latin waiters

as were repatriated for the draft

through this & that back street the neutral man

limps along taking neither bus nor tram

Stern follows into a Jerry-built walk-up

he breathes its camphored air as if to be sick

as if to detect the stench that god forsook

is all his ancient nose were made for

with metre throbbing on the fifth floor

& poor inebriate fumbling at the door

his vorpal wand snickers the Helot's back

a frenzied attack stupid cops to conclude

a jealous tart with heart of wormwood

VII

so let us horse trade you and I in nods and winks

Europe spread out on a billiard table

like a Zeppelin blockading the skylight

follow my finger down these evacuated streets

collaborators' retreats

where the all-night talk is of Swiss Hotels

quayside restaurants with six-inch shells

an argument oblique and of obscure intent

droning on as if oblivious to the question

but do not ask one's humble opinion

step inside and hear them grumble

about the room the Marshals sit and smoke

of Winston Churchill with an Armenian bloke

*

Mr President the revolution will not be cabled

direct though still encoded in modern verse

and passed through conventional channels

the agents sent into the field have both

changed their spots our Whitehall colleagues quoth

to join the very cliques they were sent to spy upon

Mr Quid stakes his talents railing

against Sephardic plots in the salons of the rich

while his replacement Mr Stern a Harvard man

one evening melted into the London fog

yes government property stolen

fake identities all but gone

and therefore begging yr pardon the revolution

while still appearing in a Chicago newsletter

may not be telegraphed direct to this office sir

Notes:

1. دون الإخلال (WITHOUT PREJUDICE)

2. είναι όλα ελληνικά για μένα (It's all Greek to me.)

3. Eliot T Stern & Zerox Quid: TS Eliot and Ezra Pound.

4. Helot: Spartan warriors were expected to have bumped off a slave by their coming of age.

5. "snipcock": an offensive term for a Jewish man, lifted from cartoon strips in “The Eagle” & Private Eye”.

6. The Rothsteins: wealthiest of all the Swiss bankers; (Chaim) Weitzman: a founder of Zionism (later first president of Israel) who handed the British a secret formula for making acetone in exchange for the First - “Balfour's” - Declaration on Palestine.

7. "a jealous tart with heart of wormwood" ie: 'he do the police in different voices'

Never Ends!