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poetry

Martov goes to Barnsley

Julius Martov

Martov goes to Barnsley

I heard him speak once.
sounded strange.
big scruffy bloke, beard on a box,
a bit deranged?
Imagine!” he says,
If your house cost a tenner
maybe said tenth? I wasn’t that close,
but it was cheap, whatever

But,” points his finger, says slow
You can only have one.”
we listened, prepared for the catch to come
Think how much better your life could be!
flog it for a fortune, grand,
sounds like a dream…
You’ll never need to sell it. It’s yours for life!
and there I was, stuck, as always,
me and the wife.

Arm to the sky “Who wins?” he shouts,
When it goes through the roof!
confused, especially builder Bob,
in his hi-vis yellow suit,
You can only sell it when you’re dead!
…pause…
we were pretty sure you couldn’t
Otherwise, where’d you live?
, not exactly rocket science…
The only winners are the banks,
making loads, hand over fist!

raised hands and fists,
in sympathy, then,
kind of wished we hadn’t

Vote for me, I’ll put it right!
but we’d heard it all before
so voted in our man in Red
as we always did up North
Remember, your vote really counts!
like all, was really keen
but knew they’re only down our way
if blue moon’s gone and been.

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