Prescott John: the transport cat
Thereâs a whisper down the line at oh-six-thirty-nine
when the busy day is just about to start
saying âPrescott where is Prescott, has he made it as investor ?
We must find him or the day canât startâ
All the mailmen, all the sorters, and the House of Commons porters,
they are searching high and low
saying âPrescott where is Prescott for unless heâs an investor,
then our busy day is surely a no-go.â
At oh-six-forty-two, when the rush is nearly due,
all the people are digesting traffic jam,
then Prescott will appear, pair of Jaguars to his rear,
heâs been busy, on the spin, and such flim-flam!
Heâll give one sentence of a parliamentary answer,
then all the MPs scatter, wait for the all-clear;
and so heâs off at last for the longest, longest part
of a speech he wrote, no outside help ! (So cheer !)
You may say that by and large it is Prescott whoâs in charge
of the Creeping Cars Expressway;
from the farmer and the trucker, any driving mother-lover
heâll paralyze them all, while pumping them for more tax theyâve to pay;
Down the motorway he races, all those little lives he graces,
of the motârists whoâre stuck in first and third;
heâs established full control by his camera patrol
and heâd know at once if banned movement occurred !
He will watch without approving, lest he should see you moving;
and it is quite certain that he does not approve
of even a flattened toad who might want to use the road
when Two-Jags Prescott is the only one to move !
You just canât try it on, with this man Prescott John
should you want to argy-barge
for nothingâs on the move on this small northern isle
when Prescott Johnâs transported to âin chargeâ !
Alan McAlpine Douglas
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- May 6, 2010 at 14:49
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