On The Darker Side Of The Street


Cuff your hands and clap your feet
Leave your freedom underneath a cauldron
Life can be a cheat
On the darker side of your street

Come into the graveyard, Mike
For it's full of broken bone
Come into the moonlight, Mike
She is there at the gate alone

Tant pis, tant pis, read me your dark prayer
All along, down along, singalong, lea
For you've won a date with Widdecombe Fair
With a sewer, a skewer, an attorney,
White slavers, sins forbidden, careless talk,
Carbuncled old cobblers and all

Fix your grin and face defeat
Heave your corpses over the gravestones
Life's a spirochaete
On the darker side of your street

       


[May 1997]

From the book Labour Pangs

- a medley for Michael Howard, whose leadership bid was scuppered by Ann Widdecombe’s suggestion that there was “something of the night” about him