BANKSTERS SHANGRI-LA.

Bo lives down in Deptford Town
With nouveau riche executives
Things seem crazy, they churn round
Young turks trade in derivatives
Long gone the old Centurion
The Mercury, Nobles, The Broadway cafe
Eels mash and liquor at Manzes pie shop
Knickerbocker Glories at Rossis, No way!
The old geezers spike
At Carrington House
The Edward Street stables
For the rag and the bone
The state cleansing centre
For the flea and the louse
The Art Deco palace
That was Odeon
The Dockers, The Costers,
All of them gone
We now have to listen
To posh gangsters Lah-di-dah
Whilst the rest of us sing
Some old Squeeze song
Deptford is becoming,
The banksters Shangri-la
Yeah Deptford has become
The banksters Shangri-la

Copyright: Harry Rogers, Aberbanc, 20th February 2011, Revised in the Red Bedroom, 2nd February 2021.

HERON BY THE QUAGGY

There’s a heron by the Quaggy,
Across the road, in Brookmill Park.
He stands on one leg in the snow,
Soon be snapped by my old friend Bo.
Someday perhaps I’ll see it too,
When next I visit old Deptford,
That feels a long way off today,
As we’re all still stuck in lockdown,
We wait for all clear siren sounds,
Politicians swim through treacle,
Mistakenly blame the people,
Who don’t play by their confused rules.
Down here, two fifty miles away,
As last nights snow begins to melt,
On radio I hear the fools,
Play pass the parcel with the buck,
There is no desk on which it stops,
As Pritti now sends in the cops.
Not one has the ability
To take responsibility.
Perhaps to Frog House I will bring
My friend good cheer in next years spring.
I hope the heron is still there,
In twenty two some pints we’ll share.

Harry Rogers, in the Red Bedroom, 24th January 2021

HEADING FOR THE ZUIDERZEE

Click this picture to hear the music demo of this poem.

IN NINETEEN SEVENTY THREE
JOHNNY, BO, AND ME
SAILED ACROSS THE SEA
HEADING FOR THE ZUIDERZEE
ON DOWN PAST GRAVESEND
OVER THE SHIVERING SANDS
PAST THE END OF THE THAMES
GOING TO THE NETHERLANDS

NEXT DAY ON THE HORIZON
BO SAW A PLUME OF SMOKE
WHILST JOHNNY GOT HIS BINS OUT
I TOOK ANOTHER TOKE
“THERE’S TWENTY FOOT FLAMES IN THE SKY”
SAID JOHNNY, CHANGING OUR WAY
WITH NO THOUGHT OF WHAT OR OF WHY
WE WERE GONNA BE HEROES THAT DAY

THE CREW ON THE DECK OF THAT SHIP
LAUGHED AS WE PULLED ALONG SIDE
THEY WERE BURNING OFF CHEMICAL SHIT
WE SAILED OFF NURSING OUR PRIDE
SAILING ACROSS THE SEA
HEADING FOR THE ZUIDERZEE
IN NINETEEN SEVENTY THREE
JOHNNY, BO, AND ME

Harry Rogers, in my old study, November 2009