Biscuit Tin Blues

By Michael Valentine

Tue, 07 Apr 2015

1 comments

Biscuit Tin Blues

Alright, pal; can you lend me a fiver?

I swear my next wage will soon be in

Or at least spare me some green, even some skins

I know you’ve plenty in your biscuit tin

Can you sub me a handful of those rattling crowns?

Four-and-a-half will see me through to Central

Where I’ll alight, heavy-footed

And smoke old stoagies off the ground

Me old mate, I can’t think of anything finer

Than a hug and a howf from you, my old china

I know you, man, and you’re a leckie cheater

I fitted that golden ticket in your mother’s meter

So won’t you lend me a fiver?

Or buy these match-sticks and hooky Marlboro

You see hand-outs, dole-queues and scrounging in the street

Are so unfitting for a man of my calibre

Permalink Submitted by Philip Sidney on Tue, 2015-04-07 21:04

Oh my, this is of our times. You're not unemployed if you don't sign on, people who slip through the gaps.