Daily Archives: October 24, 2016

You ask

You ask how much I need you, but I explained;
I wish you had more sense in your tiny bird brain.
You ask how much I love you; I told you before,
You irritate my senses, you foolish old bore.

Hold the train, I won’t be a mo.
Hold the train, can’t you see I want to go.

You ask that same old question, did you mis-hear;
I’d love you to syringe all the wax from your ear.
You ask how much I need you, I’ll tell you true,
Until the twelfth of never I’ll not be wanting you.

Hold the train, I will not be long.
Here’s the train, release my arm and I’ll be gone.

You ask that same old question, did you mis-hear;
I’d love you to syringe all the wax from your ear.
You ask how much I need you, I’ll tell you true,
Until the twelfth of never I’ll not be wanting you.

I offer my almost sincere apologies to Jerry Livingston and Paul Francis Webster, who wrote The Twelfth of Never.

Unfortunately, the following video only shows Johnny Mathis singing the original version, as I haven’t yet persuaded him to record my lyrics. However, it’s really rather good, and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

The Daily Post #Tiny

©Jane Paterson Basil

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Bending my ear

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What is wrong with you?
Curtain twitching before dawn;
peeking at sleepy stopouts,
tutting like it’s not decent,
were you never guilty of being young?

What is wrong with you?
Whining at the slightest ceiling creak –
if you weren’t pacing the boards,
and in turn, irritating the stalking grump beneath,
you would sleep through the tinkle of wizened bladders
being emptied with relief.

I despise your malicious cobble of gossip and lies;
Tell me no more of ‘er and that man cohabiting,
‘e with his filthy fingernails and smelly ‘air,
‘omeless people sleeping in corridors –
if you can’t say who saw them,
why insist the rumours are true?

Your vintage tales of stolen roses;
of immoral acts detected in a neighbour’s busy bed;
of sex uncovered in a public passage,
are blotted with the fingerprints of the dead
and coated with ancient dust, and yet
your words hint at today’s press.

Your fiction that this itchy place is a den of iniquity,
and the understanding that you consider it a disgrace
must be forever maintained.

How does your trick of buying stolen meat
fit in with the image you wish to portray?
Or is it your design to be judged a hypocrite?

You could fill your silly days with useful deeds,
instead of being a nuisance.

Stop complaining about  your smoke-tarred lungs, your diabetes,
do what you will with your aching bunions, sore back,  creaky knee,
but drop your bad attitude, and look for a solution.

Help reduce the plastic garbage that heaps;
feed the heartbreaking hunger that creeps;
staunch the thickening blood that seeps,
leaking crimson stains to rust our limping planet.

There are millions more needy than you,
and they could use your assistance.
Find an Oxfam shop and volunteer.

I apologise – that’s a crap idea.
I’d rather you go to the Hospice or an animal charity;
I work for Oxfam and I’m sick of you bending my ear

The Daily Post #Volunteer

©Jane Paterson Basil