SCREAMER TRIP
(Not published; a manuscript given to P.B.H. c.1971, lost; reconstructed from memory)Come all ye happy adults, and I’ll let you share the joys
Of blazing away in a motor-coach with a load of little boys
Who are screaming away down the motorway for the exquisite delight
Of viewing London airport in the middle of the night.
Tra la la la, it’s quite surprising to think that there’s a place that God forgot
Tra la la la, and realising, at four a.m., you’ve found the very spot!
But we haven’t arrived, and we never will if the driver throws a fit.
I think he’s near to mutiny. I’ll cheer him up a bit,
And what are the magic words to say that always do the trick?
Yes – “Half the coach-load want a pee, the rest are feeling sick”.
Tra la la la, it’s quite amazing, the speed with which we reach the next café.
Tra la la la, we’re really blazing, and burning up the jolly motorway.
Now they’re loaded again with all the loot (they say they bought it all
But coming back I think we’ll try another port of call).
If you lose your grip on a screamer trip you won’t know where you are,
They’ll either stage an orgy or a kind of coup-d’etat
Tra la la la, they’re all revolting? I know, but I’ll survive ’em at a pinch,
Tra la la la, for while I’m bolting they’ll always have the driver left to lynch.
I’m a man-of-the-world, but all the same I’m very monkey-wise.
I shut my ears, I shut my gob, I shut my startled eyes,
For the riot is abating, it is shortly due to cease,
And they may be masturbating, but we’ll get a bit of peace.
Tra la la la, “Hey, MINE is bigger!” I’m well away, and keeping out of sight
Of a display of youthful vigour (I wonder if indeed he’s really right?)
INTERLUDE AT HEATHROW
Now I’m loading all my chickadees, I panic like a hen
For one of them is missing, and my God he’s only ten!
“Hey, has anyone seen Fatty? Don’t he know it’s time for home?”
“I wanted to wait for a DC-8 that’s on its way from Rome”.
Horrible lad! Do you want the earth too? Delaying us while everybody waits!
You’ve certainly had your money’s worth too! (and I have had my bellyful of flaming DC-8s!)
Now all our little pirates are a dopey sleepy crew.
They’re bloated up with Boeings, and an Ilyushin 62,
And the driver guns the motor – it’ll either bust a gut
Or get us back to Manchester before the pubs are shut.
Tra la la la, he’s nearly cheerful. I’ll never disillusion him for sure,
Tra la la la, I’d get an earful by pointing out it never has before.
Oh I’ve had a long day, I’ve been far away, and I’m dead upon my feet
And they’re all asleep like kittens, and they’re very near as sweet.
Oh you’re harmless, little devils, if indeed you only knew
That I hope to get to heaven through my tolerance of you!
Tra la la la, “You’re getting off here? Good-night … and yes the very same to you!”
Tra la la la, “The traffic lights here?” and that’s how we dispose of all the crew.
Here’s the final little villain, he’s the biggest one unhung
Till the Sandman came and clobbered him. He’s very very young
And he’s had a good day and he’s been a long way and there’s nothing more to come
But to shake him up and wake him up and give him back to Mum
Tra la la la, “Your little treasure!” “Oh ta, I hope he hasn’t been a pest!”
“Oh not at all, it’s been a pleasure”. He has, although I bet, you know, he never ever guessed.
[EDITOR’S NOTE: From memory I am fairly sure that in a manuscript which Croghan gave me of this poem in 1971 (which has been lost) the ninth word in the last line was “It”, not “He”; however, when Croghan quoted from the poem, as he often did, he always quoted it as “He”. This considerably alters the meaning – the use of the word “It” means that yes it has been a pleasure to take the boy on the excursion, but he did not guess this, whereas “He” indicates that the boy has been a “pest” on the excursion although he did not realise it.]
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