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.
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
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