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IF ever I had a country : LII - LIII

" How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool's hand?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
Where justice is a game "

      Extracted from Bob Dylan's " Hurricane "


				LII

IF ever I had by error stumbled upon a country
And if ever I were a resident in an area run by the son of a Mediterranean refugee
I'd say to this powder-puff Madame Tussaud  clay-face sooner rather than later (t)his realm I'll flee to be free
For all the migrant force he currys favour with gratuitous doles from the common coffers fee
To turn them into replica models of his own wax-works jamboree
Will melt under the sun of his own exposure into insipid putrid curry
That is, if ever I were tortured to my dying day by this mis-leading son of a refugee
And even if I never ever had stumbled by error into no such country 


				LIII

If ever I had by error stumbled upon a country
And if ever I were subject to the Third Degree by the Maudit Son of a refugee
Who commands his grass-mowing corps to funnel exhaust fumes into my hovel square metres under thirty
Who provokes other Mediterranean mugs mitoyen-masons to stuff my abode with merde and pee
Who protects and pushes the Co-Proprietors' Council Administrator and Janitor-couple confrérerie
To keep me from getting even a night's sleep in twenty years from the migrant crowd cacaphonic battery
That is, even if I were about to die I'd say find yourself another wax-work victim who cannot repartee  
And even if I never ever stumbled by error into no such country

© T. Wignesan - Paris, August 10, 2018

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