Poetry

John Whitworth: Two Poems

God’s Bounty   Rig the gratings, Mr Christian. We are going to flog a banker. Call the ratings, Mr Christian, Now my soul begins to hanker For the backbone of a banker. Furl the sails and drop the anchor, Mr Christian.   Raise the yardarm, Mr Christian. We will hang a politician. There’s no pardon, Mr Christian For a man of his condition. When you hang a politician It improves with repetition, Mr Christian.   Roll the guns out, Mr Christian. We can terminate the scumbags. See, the sun’s out, Mr Christian! Let our bellies be our rumbags When we…

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