With apologies to Adrian Henri


Tonight at noon

Karl Marx will be dug up

And re-buried in Westminster Abbey,

Tonight at noon.


Tonight at noon

All socialists will not be confused

With the Russian Conservative party

And men in dark glasses and raincoats

Will sell state secrets

To children in the street

Who will go home

And make paper aeroplanes of them.

Tonight at noon.


Tonight at noon

Men in bowler hats will smile at you in trains

Eating their fish’n’chips in public out of the Times

While openly reading the Perfumed garden.

Tonight at noon.


Tonight at noon

The younger generation will complain there’s too much love.

The Queen will invite the world

For hot buttered toast and tea

If you can get passed the gypsies

Camping in the state apartments,

Number ten will be turned into an old peoples’ home

And Whitehall will be opened to the public.

Tonight at noon.


Tonight at noon

The minister for the arts will send artists

Get Well Soon cards

And the Post Office will deliver them.

Poets will not have to write funny verses

Because it is the only kind that sells,

All strikers won’t stop helping people

Until there is no one left to help.

Tonight at noon.


Tonight at noon

Ten people will be killed in the rush

To put coin’s in a beggar’s bowl

And admit they were wrong,

Christians will pretend there’s no life after death

And people with economic growths

Will have them treated in hospital.

Tonight at noon.

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