Sick Note Mick

Sick note Mick has a walking stick
Cos the lager made his leg’s all sore
But he can’t half run to get on Trap 1
When the hare starts running at Monmore
He nods and he winks and he says what he thinks
But never with intent to offend
His every divorce is par for the course
For every I do and each and every bitter end
He got married again to a girl called Elaine
She’d a face like a blistering piss pot
She drove the church with her Mam in a Transit van
Wearing nowt but a fur coat and flip flops
He met a girl called Stella she was really a fella
At a swingers night in Alderley Edge
He got a right shock went he went up her frock
And copped for a meat and two veg
He’s in but he’s out when the Provvy’s about
He’ll peep around the curtain from within
The door’ll be locked he’ll say “let em fuckin knock
the paint will last longer than the skin”
He’s a Broughton blagger with a Salford swagger
On the steps at Bexley Square
He’s all love and light and he’s proper alright
And if you ever need a friend he’ll be there
He’s got gambling debt and his only winning bet
Was a double up wi’ two non-runners
He’s had every blow that life can throw
So these days he stays under the covers
He’s got rent arrears and his nine per cent beers
Fill the inside pockets of his coat
He coughs and he chokes on smuggled in smokes
His kids make paper aeroplanes with his sick notes
Through the air they soar from the fourteenth floor
Of the flat in Thorn Court where they live
So if you’re on Cross Lane and you find a paper aeroplane
See if it’s a sick note for sick note Mick
© 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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