Alchemisland

Sending Armani postcards back to ‘Manny

Love to all and mammy

When I’m bringing amny and chang

Back from foreign lands my hands get clammy

Gripping the wheel of the Lancer

I’m too canny to give cops direct answer

Do as told put my hands up

Mouth isn’t a place for a foot unless a cow’s fucked

No point being a mischievous pup

Because you’ll get, at best, pucked and, at worst, put away

In the pub since eight

Selling chips and gravy

Eight pints wavy, made me wanna go to a rave

And go ape

Grape flavoured vape

I’ve got coke like navy whites

Like a pale blonde’s skin under pale moonlight

Milk-built in Swedish style, whiter than a squeaky smile

Returned repackaged from Ottoman

With new thatching and an otter’s catching chompers

Odd one this fashionable Solomon

But solid, green stocked side salad rockets stuffed in pockets.