“I’ve landed a job”, I hear you say
“What, not another!” I cry in dismay
“Are you finally giving the others up?”
“Oh no, not at all. I’m just topping up.”
“But won’t it rather get in the way?”
“Of what?” sighed he with a mystified sway
“Your main job!” I cried, seized by disgust
“The one in which your constituents trust!”
“Oh that!” laughed he, sipping his drink
“I’d quite forgot” …. with a nod and a wink
“You see, old boy, ‘though a man about town
My wife yearns for this glorious new gown
And though our girls are quite grown up
They clamour with glee when I bring a new pup
There’s the horses to stable, the hounds to run
They get through their grub and hay by the tonne
The pond needs new liner, the duck house a roof
Garden cottage re-wiring, the lodge damp-proof
The boat needs re-keeling, just wear and tear,
When I add it all up there’s not a penny to spare
The lad’s up at college, he likes to keep smart
To refuse him his tailoring, well, I haven’t the heart
The land rover’s a sink hole, the Daimler a drain
And the horse truck’s gearing has just gone again
It’s not as if I can’t juggle it all –
And my girls look magnificent when they go to the ball
I like seeing the young ones carefree and glad
There’s no calling their old man a miserly cad!”
I must admit I was taken-aback
As we rolled through a junction with a clickety-clack
What had become of the old judges’ son
Who’d waxed political-lyrical when we were young
Achieving that seat was his heavenly dream
Doing right by his betters, keeping steely and clean
I’d listen enthralled by his melodious song
Of justice-excursus; the right over wrong
His maiden speech, forceful, with loud ‘hear, hear’ cries
Winged his flight by and by to ministerial skies
But red puckering before me was an alien face
Talking the alien language of an alien race
I couldn’t help wonder how the rot had set in
When with thundering horn blow he set off again
“The box needs re-shaping, the yews, the lime
Since Jenners’ retired he won’t give of his time
I’ll have to find someone as soon as I can
The season won’t wait, I’m no gardening man
I hear that old what-not’s selling his place
Best take a look; might do for our Grace
I wonder if they’d sell their landie as well
Could do with another, one giving less hell
My club fees keep rising, well, the one I like best
As you jolly well know, a man needs his rest
We’re down at the others for Christmas this year
Can’t possibly turn up without the usual fanfare
I see by your look, you’re not terribly keen
No doubt you’d prefer I lived tightly and lean
That’s all very well when you’re not of my class
But peers of my group would call me an ass
If I don’t keep on rowing, I’d utterly sink
So I took the damn job … with a nod and a wink”
I think that this was about three years ago
He’s still up to his neck as far as I know
I rarely now see him, I’m levelling down
Relieved and unburdened as I travel to town
