So it was disinfectant after all, that's really bats,
the plan was simple - we can get rid of the democrats;
why didn't someone else think of that, perhaps they did,
but not good enough - only a one no-trump bid.
It opens a new wardrobe for future use,
bleach, turpentine, meths would all hang loose,
perhaps we could use Brasso for the *******,
or even grease from the lap-dancer's pole.
My mother had a cure for all ills, no pills,
Calamine, TCP, Lloyd's cream, pain it kills,
Milk of magnesia, germolene, Andrews for liver,
Benolyn cough mixture, if your throat starts to quiver.
She said: 'Get upstairs and wash yourself with disinfectant,'
now we can go further and use it as an expectorant.
A babe in arms, who knows no sin,
A mothers love for only him.
A carefree shopper, enjoying the day,
Each not knowing what may come their way.
A young man yet unversed in life,
A teenage girl longs to be a wife.
A down and out, drunk on meths,
Each not knowing their impending deaths.
A cyclist peddling for all his worth,
A boy and his mates so full of mirth.
A policeman's lot maybe not a happy one,
Each not knowing they may soon be gone.
A man, overdressed in the July heat goes by,
A rooftop sniper, watching, knows just why.
He raises his sights, his target cannot be missed,
His aim is true, a bombers head becomes red mist.
© Dave Timperley 2014
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