Bob Taylor And The Alien

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The Ultimate Sucker

My Great Grandson Cardean
Not yet four years old
Has a passion for vacuum cleaners
That shows no signs of growing cold
He’s a nifty little mover with a Hoover
cleans carpets by the score
And when we visit neighbours
He’ll scrutinise the floor
A speck of dust, a trace of ash
cannot escape his view
as he plunders the back bedroom
the lounge and hallway too
Just wheel it out and plug it in
Cardean does the rest
He’ll Hoover up your toenails
With unabated zest
Persian rugs, Paisley patterns
My Auntie Mary's piles
Cardean runs ‘em ragged
right down to the tiles
He’s a wizard of the wall-to-wall
With his overflowing bag
And we have to contact DCS
When Cardean needs a shag

But I’m worried for his future
In case he turns out queer
And orders gin and tonic
Instead of drinking beer
One solution to the problem
Though I’m not my grandson’s keeper
Get him to join the Army
And give him a minesweeper

Sean Dark

Sean Dark was born unwanted
His mother wasn’t wed
They took him to the chapel
splashed water on his head
Later on he went to school
was beaten black-and-blue
his jacket torn and dirtied
blood on his busted shoe

Sean Dark worked on the buses
and conducted a love affair
with a conductress known as Roxanne
green eyes and yellow hair
She left him for a doctor’s son
More prospects Sean, she said
Sean hanged himself in the Trades Hotel
Spilt whisky by his bed

American Civil War cards
were all he left behind
The documents of Sean’s short life
the police could not find
It was as if this young man
had never ev’n been born
Roxanne had moved to London
Her hair dyed black – and shorn

But late at night when the last bus
has completed its route
and all is black and silent
and no owl gives a hoot
they say you can hear Sean at work
with his ticket box and bell
shouting “room for just one more inside”
on the ghost run down to hell