Commissioned Poems [ back to commisions page ]
Frothing Mad
Wake up and smell the profit
It’s a roasted bean bonanza
They’ve struck it rich with hot black gold
It’s a cost-a-packet coffee shop extravaganza
It’s flattpack counter-culture
In high-street wi-fi boho beige
But I’m the Don Quixote of the daily grind
On the boil with Java rage
No. I don’t “wanna blueberry muffin with that?”
Or a “funky blend from Guadalajara”
Hey Mister Barista, I’m no mug
I’m caffeine’s Che Guevara
Fighting the blight of the tall-skinny-latte
Caramel-decaff-cappuccino
Double-chocca-mocha-macchiato
Wet-whipless-triple-frappuccino
Shot-in-the-dark-with-a-hazelnut
Long-black-flat-white-with-wings
And those polythene-cheesie-panini
Burn-your-mouth-off-toastie-things
Why don’t they charge for Small, Medium, Large?
Why’s it Primo-Vente-Grande
Mucho-Macho-Ridiculoso
Massivo-Pavarotti-Elephante?
Yes, I stand alone like King Canute
Against the relentless corporate tide
Of the “have-a-nice-day” megabucks café
The bland leading the bland worldwide
It’s all that Jennifer Anniston’s fault
Her and her “Friends” at “Central Perk”
Sipping “no-fun-drip-with-soya”
Driving me beserk
Because every cup of coffee should be ethicsally sound
All trade should be fair
Let the money percolate to the farmers
Let’s have Cafedirect in every cafetiere
And so head held high I head back home
Past the old greasy spoon, RIP
To lead the revolution from my armchair
Feet up with a nice cup of Fairtrade tea
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 21/7/2007
and for cafédirect, 23/2/2009
Mister Know-It-All
I’ve eaten all the fruit from the tree of knowledge
I know what’s what, I know who’s who
I know my onions, I know the ropes
I know a thing or two
I know the way to Amarillo
I know the way to San Jose
I know who let the dogs out
I know the time of day
I know what happened to The Likely Lads
I know what happened to Baby Jane
I know what’s eating Gilbert Grape
I know the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain
I know who’s been eating your porridge
I know who ate all the pies
I know which side my bread is buttered
I know the wheres, the whens, the whys
I know a hawk from a handsaw
I know chalk from cheese
I know they know it’s Christmas
I know “thank you very much” in Japanese
I know where the bodies are buried
I know whodunnit, I know the score
I know what it’s all about, Alfie
I know the capital of Ecuador
I know how many roads a man must go down
I know where we go from here
I know why birds suddenly appear
Every time that you are near
I know the known knowns that I know I know
I know the unknown knowns that I don’t
And as for Mr Rumsfeld’s unknown unknowns –
Will I admit I don’t know I don’t know? No I won’t
I know that unlike Barack Obama
Most politicians don’t have a single scruple
I know that one of the speakers today
Used to be a roadie for Mott the Hoople
I’m a walking wikipedia
I’m a mobile reference library
I’ve got more knowledge than a London cabby
I know the quickest way from Highgate to Highbury
But little do you know that I know that you know
That I know what I know is no use
Unless I pass it on, put it over and get it across
There’s no mileage in a mastermind recluse
For facts are fine as far as they go
As long as new ideas come from what we glean
Just knowing stuff is not enough
We gotta innovate – know what I mean?
And even if we know who wants to be a millionaire
We know they know that others must cooperate
That they’ll have to ask the audience, they’ll have to phone a friend
Communicate, convey, collaborate
We’ve got to work as a team, pull together
Join forces, pool resources, play ball
We gotta sail in the same boat baby
It’s all for one and one for all
So – I know who put the “ram” in the “ramalamadingdong”
I know who put the “bop” in the “bop-sh-bop”
But the best piece of knowledge I’ll share with you today is –
I know when to stop
by elvis mcgonagall
for the km forum conference
28/1/2009
Against All Odds
Armed to the teeth, an invincible Philistine
Let Goliath, the bully, do what he may
For with five stones in a sling eternal hope springs
Every underdog will have his day
With backbone, pluck and cojones
Nerve of steel, heart of oak, iron chin
The hangdog Hancocks in homburg hats
Will take on the world and win
The minnows will slay the giants
Owned by oligarch, sheikh and tycoon
All the Persians will die at Thermopylae
The Greeks will be over the moon
Eddie the Eagle will fly like an angel
Samson will fall to Rocky Balboa
Captain Scott will get to the South Pole first
The All Blacks will lose to Samoa
Basil Brush will score a ton against the Aussies
Scotland will hammer Brazil
Wimbledon will be won by John Sergeant
Hull will beat Chelsea six nil
The underdogs will overcome
The downtrodden will rise up and sing
And the son of a Kenyan goatherd will be
The next American King
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 22/11/2008
La Mano De Dios Jimmy
Home of kippers, kilts and The Krankies
Land of the mythical Useless Goalie
Deep-fried Mars Bars, North Sea Oil
Sean Connery, Hardeep Singh Kohli
Monarch of The Glen – the puma
The Patagonian silvery Tay
Highland fling and Glasgow tango
Roberto C Nesbitt – ole!
Born of gauchos on the pampas of Paisley
Raised on the Shetland Tierra del Fuego
Scotland welcomes its greatest ever volleyball player –
A tubby wee bloke called Diego
And Hampden will roar for McMaradona
As one man sits grim-faced, ramrod –
Can Terry bury his Butcher’s hatchet?
Will he shake the left hand of God?
by elvis mcgonagall
for the “today programme” 19/11/2008
Money, Money, Money
When one is on one’s uppers, out at elbow, down at heel
When one’s silver spoon is tarnished, bent and worn
One need not stare into the void of winter’s fiscal discontent
In Stygian gloom forlorn
When one longs to wave a wad of wonga, to splash a stash of cash
But one is sinking fast in simply ghastly debt -
Call The Floating Russian Oligarch Vodka Palace Bank
The bank that unbelievably says “nyet!”
(Complimentary cocktails subject to status.
Terms and conditions apply)
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 25/10/2008
Games For A Laugh?
One World, One Dream, One Breathtaking Smog
Sing out each nation, by jingo, voices strong
Rise up in harmony, unfurl the flags of every land
(except Tibet)
It’s time for synchronised-equestrian-ping-pong
Roll-up for the 5-ring-circus-hoopla
Roll-up for the lycra-clad Heracles of our age
In their high-tec, sat-nav chariots of fire plc
Full of tetrahydrogestrinone roid rage
Oh whither Alf Tupper, Tough of the Track
Wielding welder’s torch, fish ‘n chips and
hobnailed boots?
Whither Nigel Havers’ leisured leaping lord
Sporting silk cravat, cigarette and champagne
flutes?
Let us reach out and feel for the Corinthian ideal
Four years’ hence at London’s jamboree
Let’s have compulsory tweed vests, plimsolls, pipes
and brylcreemed hair
Spam fritters and performance boosting tea
We don’t need Lang Lang on the old Joanna
We’ve got Chas ‘n Dave
Jellied eels, party hats, knees up Gordon Brown
Think of all the money that we’ll save
Let’s have tug-o’-war, egg and spoon and a
three-legged race
Let’s make the credit crunch Olympics first-rate
Let’s take a great hop, skip and jump backwards
To the spirit of 1948
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 9/8/2008
The Frame Game
Enter the dragons….stop!
Wait a minute Mister Wenbo –
That’s not your cue. OK – take two
Ready, steady, let’s go
Enter the dragons, the rockets, the wizards
Let the assassins and outlaws begin
The magicians of perfect positions
The kings of the cannon, the sultans of spin
32 men with nerves of Sheffield steel
Forged in the heat of the Crucible’s fire
17 days of the boys on the baize
A duel for the crown way on down to the wire
Slowly twisting the chalk, they prowl and they stalk
Hunting pink and potting the black
A cat and mouse game on a lush green terrain
Picking off all the reds in the pack
To the gentle soundtrack of the clack, clack, clack
The thunk in the pocket, the rattle in the jaws
In an enraptured cathedral of silence
Whispered commentary, sudden applause
“He’s got a perfect kiss on the yellow
The cue-ball’s on a string that’s a lovely run-through
In-off the lampshade with a spider
Settling nicely on a plant by the blue”
Working out all the impossible angles
Advanced trigonometry plus derring-do
You don’t need a protractor or set square
When you’re Pythagoras armed with a cue
Swashbuckling round the table
At maximum breakneck pace
There’s 147 steps to heaven
A dance to the rhythm’s inspired embrace
With a rival sat slumped sipping water
Bowtie wilting, hope sinking, resigned
Staring vacantly into space
Idle thoughts cross his unravelled mind
“The cushions are bouncy. I don’t like the cut of the cloth”
“Let’s have hamsters for goalies. Am I dressed like a waiter?”
“The referee’s wearing Paul Daniels’ gloves”
“I might have some fish ‘n chips later”
But now the last two are left standing
The final frame will unfold
At the end of a rainbow of colours
Somebody’s gonna pot gold
Red and yellow, pink, green and brown
Who’s gonna feel black and blue?
Can Captain Carter crash Ronnie the Rocket?
I’m sorry- I’m snookered- I haven’t a cue
by elvis mcgonagall
for the world snooker championships 2/5/2008
By George!
Once more unto the breach, dear Morris Dancers
once more
Jingle your bells, thwack sticks, raise flagons
Cry “God for Harry and Saint George!”
Gallant knight and slayer of dragons
Patron saint of merry England –
And Georgia, and Catalonia, and Portugal, Beirut, Moscow
Istanbul, Germany, Greece
Archers, farmers, boy scouts, butchers and sufferers of
syphilis
Multicultural icon with sword and codpiece
On, on you bullet-headed saxon sons
Fly flags from white van and cab
But remember stout yeomen, your champion was Turkish
So – get drunk and have a kebab
by elvis mcgonagall
for the “today programme” 23/4/2008
Easter
Christ crucified on Calvary is risen from the dead
Stigmata bathed in celestial light
And in the garden of Gethsemane
A six-foot bunny’s hidden chocolate eggs in the night
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 22/3/2008
Reprieve
There’s no justice in the hangman’s rope
Swinging in the air
There’s no grace upon the gallows
There’s no mercy in the chair
Yet the lynch mob rule is righteous
It’s yippee eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
Wild West values dressed in their Sunday best
Vengeance burying the truth
But they won’t hold the needle
They won’t pull the switch
They won’t buckle the leather straps
They’ll just throw you in hell’s ditch
Where Death is dressed in violent orange
And shackled to your fears
A silent, cold companion
As you wait and count the years
And though your hope seems broken
Beaten black and blue
Don’t drink the waters of oblivion
The world has not forgotten you
You will walk free from desolation
Another life will come your way
And the blood-guilt stain on the Stars and Stripes
May be washed clean one day
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 12/1/2008
Call My Bluff
I’m the brand new Cincinnati Kid on the block
I’m a blue-chip, red-hot poker brat
I got an ace up my sleeve, I got alligator blood
I’m ahead, my hand is pat
I’m on the button, I’m on a rush
Ten-deuce off-suit I’m double trouble
Pass the buck, I’ll give you action
I ain’t goin’ out on the TV bubble
Next time that pigeon flops the nuts
Sandbag the donkey’s hit and run
But don’t tap on the aquarium
When the fish is having fun
Ain’t no point lookin’ for a third three
It was posted on fourth street
I’m gonna limp re-raise with my pocket eights
You never see me steamin’ on a big bad beat
I’m gonna chase that flush draw down to the river
Jam the pot on a Mississippi straddle
Wash that deck - I ain’t shipwrecked
Gonna catch a boat with a golden paddle
Now you may say – enough is enough this stuff’s a bluff
Just zap this claptrap rap
And you’d be right ‘cos I been sittin’ here all night
Wonderin’ why is no-one shoutin’ “Snap!”?
by elvis mcgonagall
for “world poker series (europe)”
september 2007
Ever After
Rug ripped from under your feet
Cast adrift and anchor gone
All at sixes and sevens
Now two is suddenly one
Thread and bearings lost
Ship abandoned, all at sea
Hope sinking on the horizon
Now it’s “I” instead of “We”
A piece of your puzzle is missing
The half that made the whole shebang
The front seat of the tandem is empty
There’s a yin but there’s no yang
It’s like Ginger waltzing without Fred
It’s Johnny singing without June
It’s like Corbett without Barker
It’s Mills without the Boon
But one day without any warning
Out of the blue, like a thief in the night
If a stranger dares to steal your heart
And you’re filled with a sweet delight
Then take the plunge and cross the Rubicon
For when push it comes to shove
You can dance the dance with another
So c’mon. Jump in to love
by elvis mcgonagall for “saturday live” 21/7/2007
Can You Tell What It Is Yet?
It’s….“a festival of contemporary performing arts”
“Europe’s biggest open-air event”
“a city the size of Sunderland”
the world and his wife in a tent
a medieval Wild West shanty town
the BoHo House at Worthy Farm
an apocalyptic Oxford Circus
a Babylon of blessed balm
the sou’wester fiesta
John Peel’s Shangri-La
the psychedelic cider Solstice
Millets’ Mardi Gras
proud Albion’s Billy Braggstock
a bucolic mini-state
the Lord Mayor of Misrule’s annual show
the Pilton village fete
seventh heaven, cloud nine
a long weekend in Wonderland
a mystical, magical merry-go-round
a carnival of the damned
an explosion in Willy Wonka’s factory
a caramel chocolate swamp
a barmy army’s welly boot camp
a shocktroop’s rock ‘n roll yomp
beards ‘n bongos, beads ‘n bells
karma, kaftans ‘n kagoules
peace, love and understanding on stilts
Mad Hatters, holy fools
shamen juggling cannonballs
ballerinas playing didgeridoos
evergreen fields of dreams
cloudbursts of savage blues
a trip through the canyons of Salvador Dali’s mind
cows up trees, angels dusted in dirt
a secret gig in Amy Winehouse’s beehive
anarchy in a Cath Kidston yurt
organic rap and radical noodles
left-wing bling and silent rave
eco-friendly-fairtrade-drum ‘n bass
techno-techno Chas ‘n Dave
revolting youth and wizened wizards
Somerset’s human zoo
the people’s pleasure garden
inhibition’s Waterloo
a cornucopia of delight
the song of a lost troubadour
It’s....Glastonbury, it’s all of these
and much, much, much, much more
by elvis mcgonagall
for the glastionbury festival, june 2007
Designer Porridge
Apricot boilersuit by Versace
Diamante handcuffed glamour
We’re winning the War on Celebrity
Paris Hilton is back in the slammer
by elvis mcgonagall
for “saturday live” 9/6/2007
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