CLEANED UP IN CLAPHAM
(Written, with some small regret, in the British Transport Commission’s museum of locomotives)
(Composed prior to 1971; from manuscript held by B. Burke)The Songs of my Childhood
Are here ‘Arranged’ by the B.T.C.
The Songs of MY Childhood, were – frankly – filthy.
But they sang to me.
Indeed, from those embankments high
they roared and sang most sweetly
while – juvenile – my pals and I
in lower shadows more discreetly
explored each other’s universe.
But that was small wonder.
A pastime for small and simple Folk
while waiting for the next Verse of earthy thunder
and splendid Squalor of Steam and Smoke!
Now, Industrious Archaeologists
deep-delving a rich tilth
as Artful as Folk-musicologists
have scraped away the layers of filth
and found these jewelled … icons
Red .. blue .. green … yellow ….
When THESE idols were dying, I turned away,
When, sensing the silence of death
upon him, Moloch - having had HIS day -
was shrouding himself with his breath.
He must have regurgitated me. Or is it just I’m ‘Pushing forty’?
for here in these pleasant surroundings, I’m alive and quite unharmed,
But, poor Moloch! – Here he’s pristine .. painted … polished
and - quite without his squalor –
so EMBALMED!
[AUTHOR’S NOTE: Written for Poetry and Folk music soiree. Hence “digs” at folk-musicians ..!) (I’ve never BEEN to Clapham.)]
[EDITOR’S NOTE: This is about the former British Transport Museum in Clapham, which closed before the National Railway Museum opened in York.]
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