Thursday, February 9, 2012

Glyn Maxwell Poem

The man who sold Manhattan for a halfway decent bangle,
He had talks with Adolf Hitler and could see it from his angle.
And he heard the Silver Beatles but he didn't think they'd make it
And he bought a cake on Pudding Lane and thought 'well, I'll bake it'
     But his chances they were slim
     And his brothers, they were Grimm
     And he's sorry, very sorry
     But I'm sorrier than him.

And the drunken plastic surgeon who said 'I know! Let's enlarge 'em!'
And the bloke who told the Light Brigade 'Oh what the hell, let's charge 'em!'
The magician with an early evening gig on the Titanic,
And the Mayor who told the people of Atlantis not to panic.
     And the Dong about his nose,
     And the Pobble re. his toes,
     They're all sorry, very sorry,
     But I'm sorrier than those.

And don't forget the bible with the Sodomites and Judas
And Onan who discovered something nothing was as rude as
And anyone who reckoned it was City's year for Wembley
And the kid who called Napoleon a shortarse in assembly.
     And the man who always smiles,
     'Cause he knows I have his files,
     They'e all sorry, truly sorry.
     But I'm sorrier by miles.

And Robert Falcon Scott who lost the race to a Norwegian
And anyone who's ever spilt the pint of a Glaswegian,
Or told a Finn a joke, or spent an hour with a Swiss-German,
Or got a mermaid in the sack and found it was a merman,
     Or he who smelt a rat,
     Got as curious as a cat,
     They're all sorry, deeply sorry,
     But I'm sorrier than that.

All the people who were rubbish when we needed them to do it,
Whose wires crossed, whose spirit failed, who ballsed it up, or simply blew it,
All the notchers of null points and all who have a problem, Houston,
At least they weren't in Kensington when they should have been in Euston,
     For I didn't build the Wall,
     And I didn't cause he Fall,
     But I'm sorry, Lord I'm sorry,
     I'm the sorriest of all.