An extract from a performance poem "Mean Little Town" from new collection of poems "Life in a SPAR Town".
Mean 'n' Nasty Town
There’s something mean 'n' nasty in this nasty little town,
Outsiders feel inclined not to hang around,
For long...
Mean 'n' nasty people living,
Mean 'n' nasty lives,
Mean and nasty backstabbers with mean 'n' nasty knives.
The murmur and the tell-tale stare,
The shibboleth at play,
All roads lead to home,
We’ll point you on your way,
Thanks for buying from our artisans’ stalls
but don’t overdo your stay,
Because this is a local town,
So don’t hang around,
In our nasty tiny town.
Stranger beware, take care,
The still use the N word there - Nantwich.
Through the driving rain to the
Hamlet for the insane,
Don't worry darling, Ophelia pain.
Like a line drawn in the sand
Now you've crossed the Rio-Grande,
Gary the cooper won’t help you here,
James is a Jesse,
Custer's a coward
Honour was deflowered years ago,
The badlands beckon so take your last band stand,
You've got till sunset,
Before things get out of hand,
Get the next train out of here,
Don’t delay, be on your way,
Or you’ll come a cropper (or maybe a farmer),
Don't call a copper coz he's on our pay
We’ll give the vigilantes a shout,
Forget the village Inn, you're out.
In tiny towns they’re impressed by the Express,
Read the Mail without fail,
Wear blue rosettes,
Gymkhana their daughters
Affair the au pair,
Boutique their pets
Range rove the roads,
Spit roast the Barbie,
So please form a barbecue,
All in all in a tiny town there's f**k all else to do.
There's something mean and nasty in this nasty little town
Nasty little aldermen covet the mayoral crown
Welcome to the chamber
The ermine and the silk
The meanest men and women
There's dozens of their ilk
All butchered bakers, candlestick takers
Used car salesmen, tax disc fakers
Scrapping metal merchants,
Tinkering tailors,
Low rent undertakers
Self publicising publicans
Troubled glazing traders
Defrocked vicars
Surveyors on the take
Propertied developers
Forever on the make
Shady loan shark operatives
Sell fifty shades of debt
They’ll repossess your shadow
If your payment is not met
The village in Bloomberg winner
Everyone’s a sinner baby
In this one horse town resort
They gather round the village green to burn the Which Report
BlackBerry picking from your pocket
Is the local sport
You bunch of jodrell bankers
Seems an apt retort
To the sort
Who rule this mean 'n' nasty town.
There’s something mean 'n' nasty in all
Nasty rural towns.
Jack swore Jill was on the pill
The doctor said he'd sort her
A tale of everyday town folk
Cavorting with their daughter.
The art centre’s run by pricks
The real ale pubs are full of dicks
The town hall staff are uber rude
The cab drivers are f**king crude
The chintzy stores are full of crap
The pastry shop is full of pap
All the roads are full of holes
The garden centre's full of hoes
The Norman church is always closed
The library's only got two books
The council chamber's full of crooks
The music scene is f**king dead
The f**king kids are all inbred
The farmer’s market’s f**king rank
The cafe bars are f**king w*nk
The pot-holed car parks all are locked
The dogging scene is all half-cocked
The tourist board is run by snobs
The rugby club is full of yobs
The sports complex is full of slobs
The migrant workers came for jobs
Took one look and f**ked right off
To a kinder fascist led regime
‘Cause they too know, when they've seen
A mean 'n' nasty town.
Stephen Evans (c) 2014
