How Would You Like It

How would you like it
If I said to you
You should smoke cigarettes
Till your skin turns blue
And you get lung cancer
And prostate too
And you’re wracked by pain
And your breath smells of pooh
And they take you to hospital
But there’s no hope for you
Would you like it
I don’t think you would
Do you?

How would you like it
If I said you should choose
To spend all your money
Entirely on booze
Till you come to depend
On your “drinky” each day
And you drink till you’re blotto
And they cart you away
And your friends all desert you
‘Cause you’re not who you were
And your kids don’t comprendez
As you slobber and slur
And your wife starts to cry
As you puke up on her
Would you like it
I don’t think so
No sir!

How would you like it
If I said it was cool
To sniff up white powder
And act like a fool
And to blow all your cash
Just to get the next hit
When your family’s in rags
And your house is in bits
And to steal from your mates
Just to keep you in blow
Till you have no friends left
And no place you can go
And you get really thin
And you skulk round the place
And mucus keeps dripping
From the hole in your face
Would you like it
I don’t think so

But then if I told you
That there was a way
To get from point A
To point B in the day
Without doing anything
Stupid or dumb
And without any harm
And no shame for your mum
Then you’d take it, right
This vestige of hope
And you’d quit all your habits
Your pills and your dope
And all start afresh
In the new light of day
Well of course you would, wouldn’t you?
No, I don’t thinks so
No way

© Richard Holt 2012

A Can Of Special Brew

I came to Aberystwyth
Because there’s people to get pissed with
And we get abused and dissed with
A can of special brew

Then we lie around the pavement
And we stare up in amazement
And we talk about what Dave meant
With a can of special brew

And I try to sell big issues
And I use my sleeve not tissues
And my brain gets lots of misuse
From a can of special brew

And we all hang around the bandstand
And watch some clown do handstand
But there’s few of us that can stand
With a can of special brew

Then our dogs fight like hyenas
In the door of the dry cleaners
Till the cops get in between us
And our can of special brew

So if you see me in the high street
And I have a hat at my feet
Spare some change to get me my treat
That’s a can of special brew

© Richard Holt 2012