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Peter
Kavanagh's
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another
stab at Larkin
Sidney
Bechet was a colourful
import
wouldn't stand his kind next door
played
soprano sax angelic on
vinyl
of course
heard
at sweaty joints where tarts with beards
scared
the pants off you preferred a home
entertainment
system scotch on tap
frill-less
no bills
discs
for one thing let you catalogue
hoards
of sleeveless numbers stripping off
followed
by some fiendish fingerwork
deep
as the night
war
& peace saw decent progress through
45
to the long player though
seldom
did you stand for anything
backside
of doors
Bechet
had his dark recesses too
stood
his women down but sex-o-phone
jazz
played live on stage was something else
kissed
no one’s ass
banned
in Sparta
Archie
& the Locosts' tribute act
flogs
a poet's soul for soldiers' pay
in
or out of uniform you choose
just
get them pissed
somehow
cash must be exchanged for wine
payment's
due as soon as it has crashed
on
the bar no credit given out
this
side of war
Archie's
pals let's call them men at arms'
length
can pipe & play kitara in
imitation
of their sovereign lord's
former
cohorts
fronted
by a spindly spear man
sings
like burning olive sticks & cracks
jokes
the guy himself would have to laugh
horny old goat
banned
in Sparta as we've said before
still
the Helots sneak their hero in
festivals
of drunk no way take place
sans
Archie’s voice
Paul
Birtill poet
swear
to god I've never seen him eat
half
a bag of crisps or someone's nuts
left
behind if they have buggered off
no
fish or chips
pass
the blighter's lips or Christmas pud
sure
he’s tasted food a Catholic
boy
at heart took bread with wine at mass
which
did for starts
sometimes
thought cos I’m a veg it's guilt
wouldn’t
want me letting him devour
carcasses
of animals in sight
that
would be weak
no
the simple truth he's mean enough
not
to stuff himself while in his keks
beer
money tries to bide its time
wincing
at the price of cigarettes
been
there done that
folks
who are prepared to leave their homes
shelving
most of what they known & trust
start
their lives again on unknown ground
get
my respect
living
on their wits & memories new
faces
take the place of kith & kin
jobs
may flip as former managers
start
behind bars
Mum
or Dad too far away to help
sis
or bro with other folks in tow
those
who finished university
learn
from Day One
languages
& customs even faiths
get
exchanged like debunked currencies
with
their drop in value they expect
less
than they get
self
reliance shoulders refugees
economic
migrants desperate folk
call
them what you will the tasks they face
immense
respect
The
Poodle Shop
Chris
& I would fight to sing it first
there
in Old Swan where
shaggy dogs had
hairdos
dating back to '63
The
Poodle Shop
straight
through '66 the thrill
wore on
even
when England won the World Cup
chiming
in like Beatles we replied
The
Poodle Shop
jingles
dominated our TV
homespun
contribution to the scene
The
Poodle Shop
don't
know why I gotta write this down
'cept
to say it happened during times
Chris
and I were brothers in the car
The
Poodle Shop
could
have driven Mum & Dad insane
but
I think they got a kick from it
Chris
would try to beat me every time
The
Poodle Shop
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No
Dogs On Leash!
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