Debris

This blog consists of short comments on the ever fading glories of England. It does not relate to other members of the UK, Scotland, Wales and the loosely affiliated Northern Ireland. Ah England nation of drunks, sluts, debtors and fools. We sail around in circles for the Captain has no charts, The sails they are in tatters as we head for foreign parts, The Captain gets his orders from the masters of misrule*, We're sailing off the coast of France on board the ship of fools. * The USA

Saturday, March 03, 2007

* A scottish friend wrote to say that he and his wife had been down to London town to the 'Tate Modern' and had seen Tracy Emin's installation work 'Bed'. So blown away by this objet d'arte was he, that he had composed a poem on the spot. I found it so moving that I decided to share it with you.

Ode to Tracy Emin's installation 'Bed' by Angus MacDonald.

'Dinna ye know hoo' to mak' your bed, lassie,'
The woman o' the hoose sighs,
'Poor wee drunken sluttie,.
'Nae poor!'
'Oer canny intoxicated tartie'
'Thousands and thousands of pounds
For yon secondhand Slumberland
Frae such as the bampot Saatchi'
-
I kneel tae kiss this begging letter,
Take winged flight oer the restless waves,
tae oor tanked-up trollop Tracy.

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