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Harry Stottal


I once met old Harry Stottal,
a bricky from down Hackney Marsh.
He didn't much care for tory politics,
so spoke of Maggie in words most harsh.

As far as his philosphy of life went,
we'd no need for any more toffs,
yet they were mostly the folk he built for,
even though their way of life made him cross.

He drove an old van with just one seat,
for the other had got in the way,
when he'd had a load of long timber
to take back to his home one day.

For he'd been building a large extension,
just to use up the bricks that he had,
left over from so many jobs he'd done,
since leaving school when he were a lad.

Just a few miles away in Dalston,
we lived for a while with so few cares.
But we avoided our nearest neighbour,
A man with the most fearsome of stares.

We all said he resembled Idi Amin,
though maybe he was not so very tall,
but none ever crossed him or his wife,
for we had no wish for his friends to call.

He owned a great gleaming Granada,
and it's said that was where he was born,
some thought he made money from drug deals,
while others were quite sure that it was porn.

Whatever the source of his income,
we all noticed the months he was gone,
none dared to enquire where he'd got to,
for they feared he might 'go off on one'.

When we moved across London to Southwark,
it was to an old Edwardian terraced house
the sort that had servants quarters downstairs
where the damp would have chilled out a mouse.

We had use of the floor just above that,
for our living needs that was quite fine,
and that was where I built a large aquarium,
as aquatics has long been a hobby of mine.

Sometime later we opened our own shop,
filled with tropical fish which we sold,
to people that lived down near Bromley,
one or two of whom I sadly had to scold.

For not all of them treat their fish kindly,
and neglect is something I'll not stand,
old Tim was by far the worst culprit,
care was perhaps beyond him to understand.

Tim had long been a dock worker,
though he must have been smaller than most,
he cycled each day up to the dockyards,
to hear him moan he'd have been to the coast.

In a donkey jacket much bigger than he was,
he made quite the most comical sight,
with his bicycle covered with stickers,
to make it stand out more in the night.

There were so many characters in London,
if I cared to I could write for a week,
but that might be somewhat excessive,
for your attention I'm hoping to keep!

September 6th 2011


◄ What Tempo Portents

Nine Eleven - Version 2 ►


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Dave D Poet Rhumour

Tue 6th Sep 2011 11:50

Cheers P&S, I'll certainly try and post more here again, had a rather dodgy broadband connection for some time now, so I'm way behind on many sites.

Have you tried You can get paid for blogging there...

Best wishes, Dave

<Deleted User> (6895)

Tue 6th Sep 2011 10:17

good ter see you bloggin again Mr.D

how come Terry Bull
Arfur Guinness
Stan Down
Pat Mehedwithanironbar
or Marge Herine
did,nt get a mention?

not to mention a million others.

well done Dunn as in Dave.
best to you from us two too-P&S Wilde'uns

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