John Carter Brown Poems

Mornings are never good for me,
Afternoons are more to my liking.
You mustn't think this means I'm lazy.
...

Monday morning, and the weekend is
Over, it's back to the grindstone again;
No one is happy, they feel in the
Death-zone, moaning in sorrow and pain;
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When the call came to stand and fight
no soul refused, no, none took flight;
The ask alone, the rallying-call,
the echo: 'England shall not fall.'
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I hope it starts, I hope it starts
I really hope it does
I hope it starts, or else it's walking,
that, or catch the bus.
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Peace is so boring
Let's go have a war,
That's just what the guns
And the soldiers are for;
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There is a young man from Iran
Who's milk always spills from the pan,
His name is Ellias
He stands on a bias
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E...lec...tricity
Why not Lectric let it be?
Where I come from, that's what we
Call it anyway you see.
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Oh, give me a home
Where there ain't not no home,
And there's peace
In the homestead all day;
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I ought to beware: my wife is back
The phone is now under transistor-attack;
It won't be a quick or an easy death
She'll kill it by sheer bombardment of breath.
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I shudder to think
What life would be like
If women, like men, started thinning;
No peace would be found,
...