In Walthamstow
It was the only place to go.
Went to listen and learn
No intention of doing a turn
But at the interval
I offered my name
Nerve wrackingly magic
Will do it again!
Themed as a sort of
Presley night
Couldn’t write about him
Try as I might.
Even though I’m three days too late
You can now judge
If it’s worth the wait.
So who is that man
You all call Elvis
Ancient heartthrob shaking his pelvis?
You know the fat bloke
Who died on the bog
Straining with a burger
While dropping a log.
He’d have lived longer
If he’d fed them to dogs.
Could be he’d done that before
Crap army food he knew the score.
Walthamstow food was more to his taste
Shovelled down in such haste
Fish and chips
Sausage in batter
That chip shop Elvis
Who loved a natter.
He had imposters all over town
But East Seventeen’s Elvis must claim the crown
Not Chinese Paul
Dahn the Old Kent road
Horrendous wailing
Stuck on karaoke mode.
Or the bloke in Streatham
With his Italian food
Now I like pizza and pasta
Don’t mean to be rude
Can prove he’s an imposter
Without being crude
If think Elvis is from near Tooting
You need stringing up and shooting!
Chances are you’ll think I’ve made this all up
If you think that’s the case jolly good luck
Head down to the end of the Victoria Line soon
Coming up the escalator you’ll hear a man croon..
Because there’s a guy works down a chip shop
Swears he’s Elvis…
Dulwich Poet 19th August 2013
(I read at a poetry event at Walthamstow Library last Friday, it had an Elvis theme, because it was on the anniversary of his death. Most people didn’t actually have poems about Elvis, though some did. So I wrote this…sort of in ‘tribute’ to my first ever poetry ‘open mic’ performance.)
No comments:
Post a Comment