Bobby’s Boiled Ham

Her fingers cling to carrier bags
dodging dogs on the estate
She stops to cough and catch a breath
and leans on the garden gate
She’s got him 20 Regal king size
an’ a bottle of Gordons Gin
Half o’ pound o’ roady bacon
an’ a Warbys thick ‘n’ thin
This is where they’ve ended up
this is ain’t where she wanted to be
Bags are dropped down the end o’ the hall
the kettles on for a cup o’ tea
The phone goes he says “We’re out tonight
i’ll treat ya we’ll spend the rent”
She thinks he must have been paying double
cos the rent had already been spent
He had a Yankee up four five to ones
after the last race at four ‘o’ clock
At five past four she was washed an’ dressed
in her best shoes and best frock
Police knocked on about half past four
said “We’ve come about your dog again
it keeps going after everybody on a bike”
She said “Well take the bike off it then”
As Saturday night met Sunday morning
she was dancing wi’ next doors fella
He was toppin’ up her drink wi’ Domestos
she dint get drunk but ‘er hair turned yella
A dark mild and Whisky chaser
an’ a Sherry for the Mam
The celophanes off the sarnies
Ya can’t see their gobs for boiled ham


© JB Barrington 2014

About JB Barrington

The words & verse of JB Barrington; performance poet from Salford. Lovely stuff, touches heart strings and the odd raw nerve - Johnny Vegas Great poems; great delivery - Terry Christian A warm charm, a rapier wit and a real appreciation of words - Louder Than War
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