Daddy’s coming home

At three o’clock, we ran across the park
Then up the Wigan Road, we children roamed
Past the houses and along the fields
Looking for our daddy coming home
Looking for our daddy coming home.

I was only  two or three  at most
We passed our church and saw the Pope in Rome
We climbed a fence and walked by fields of wheat
Looking for our daddy coming home
Looking for our daddy coming home.

From the distance came a tall thin man
A ladder on his shoulder, hair well combed
A bucket full of paints and all his tools
Look, Paul, is that daddy coming home?
Bernard, I think daddy’s coming home!

A look of shock, a smile, a cry, my loves!
He rushed towards us, happy and transformed
What about your mammy does she know?
Yes, yes, yes it’s daddy coming home
Yes, yes, yes, it’s daddy coming home.

Oh,Mammy had no idea   of  it at all
She thought we were just playing by the wall
Children were much bolder and more free
Daddy  how I loved you, come to me

Emile falls off the roof

Mary was on a step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardens>
He was climbing over the fence with Emile their cat on his shoulder.

I think it’s ridiculous, she muttered .
Surely Emile, a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.But Emile was very limp,she saw with horror
He can’t be dead, she whispered to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak retinae or retinas
Oh,my! That hurt…I’d better be careful.She flew down stairs and met Stan in to the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said unhappily
Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he manage it manage to climb up?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly

If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask..
Don’t put on that act! he said wantonly
I mean it.
A bit too late now.
What do you mean?
After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me
But whoever I married,I’d have read those same writers…
Umphh,said Stan dolefully.
Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.

Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fecking idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I fecking well feel like,he said.
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stan no longer desired her.
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in
Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I fecking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said Feck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas.
Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush..
And the last too, thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered
Well,you see,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.

I dream of pearls

Inside my mind I dream of pearls,
Caterpillars,snails with whorls.
I dream contented, all enwrapped;
With reverie and dream I’m lapped.
The inner seas will comfort me,
While gods open my eyes to see

Oh,sweeter than confectionery
Is my Oxford diction’ry.
The words whirl round then fall to shape
The sentences which my world make.
This furnishing is rich and strange
And magically self arranged.

Oh,sweeter than the love of man
Is reading works of poets long gone;
Feeling deeply their dark tides .
Upon which our boat may glide.
The sea infinite we float upon
Is the same warm sea the ancients swam..

Sweeter still is the spring air
And the blossom spreading fair.
We’ll drown our selves in grassy fields
To the gods of poetry yield.
We’ll rise again and spring up tall
To grow more ripe until we fall