Bob's Pound

Now,shall we sing your song In oases round the earth Where,glowing orbs in shady halls Rolling hips, painted lips Announce with distanced faith "We are the world..." No,it won't be your crown,rugged priest Though princes snicker at your snickers And hallowed monks on hand, Swear at your loosened cuffs Your nimbus 'round shaggy locks The misty tears that would not drop To wet the rough droughty plain Drinking pain in place of rain Sweet choir at our festive Mass Droning birds swirling dust Bringing only,so much grain But plenty more in hope and love To a world of cheerless seasons From saviours with kindly reasons Leading them a Boom town saint In jeans, with guitar and song God bless you, Bob Geldof!