May I take the liberty of enclosing my latest poem for your consideration for possible publication in the Whitby Gazette.

I’m sure that you will agree at least that it has been topical.

The Rebel Rouser

Champion for the Cause

Wish I could get in County Hall

Fingers crossed I could

I’d take no ruddy prisoners

I’d just be out for blood.

Behind the council officers

I’d like to shove my broom

And where the sun don’t shine I’d make

them dance to our tune.

I’d lecture them on wasting cash

Lord would I go to town

Reminding them of flats and things

They build and then knock down.

It really hits a sore spot

When they up the council tax

And they make a ruddy packet

From recycling our trash.

Wish I could chair their meetings

I’d simply take no flak

I’d make them fill the potholes

Or give ‘em all the sack.

Selling our particulars

Is another low down trick

We get loads of bogus mail

They just get rich quick.

If I could get in County Hall

I’d kick up such a fuss

And instead of us paying council tax

They’d end up paying us.

It’s a good job that we live in

A country that is free

Otherwise the local sheriff

Will be out gunning for me.

I could end up sewing mail bags

What a rotten thought

For instead of stood in County Hall

It might be County Court.

I might just have to kiss some ass

And eat some humble pie

Or tell them whistle dixie

Cost it’s all a damn bit lie.

So if anyone out there has a name

That’s similar to mine

It could be you instead of me

That ends up doing time.

Gillian Walsh, Helmsley, York