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.