Working to Rule

WORKING TO RULE

    Working to all of the rules is an impossible occupation

   Listen to the spokesperson
             from the union -
                     listen to what's said

   Pickets to the left
             Do not let the scabs get through
                     Pickets to the right

   STICK TOGETHER MEN
   STAND UP FOR ALL YOUR RIGHTS MEN
   WORKERS UNITED

   The journey
             is going to be long,
                     arrival brief

   Breaker, breaker,
   It's time to stop for food
   At Smoky Joe's

   sausage and mash and sweet tea

   Ahead the long night
             hoping for dawn in Scotland,
                     snow falling on Shap

   Convoy of lorries
   following council snowplough -
   salt turns to green slush

   steam rising
             raised voices cursing
                     burst radiator

   hitch-hikers kiss
             their road ends and starts
                     at Gretna Green

   reflected
             in the wing-mirror
                     low-flying jet

   we are here
             now

   i know where i am
   or i know where i'm going
   but never know both

   notoriously bad months
             conditions can be terrifying
                     rear fog lights

   moors stretch to hills
             behind the peeling fence
                     sheep bleat

   fists fly
             at the transport cafe
                     on the pinball game

   ^^^^^^^^^^^
   ~~~~~~~~~%%%%%%
   \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/

   Lights on the highway
   Shine their truest
   At the crossroads

   motorway bridge cracked
             three days to move
                     the concrete

   clones of cones
             realign lanes

   At level crossings
   Trains on the straight track
   Needn't stop

   miles beyond the road
             the walker settles to sleep
                     in the bothy

   behind castle walls
             the laird with his brandy
                     in the library

   the wild Highland stag
             silhouetted 'gainst full moon
                     raises his antlers

   after the wind
             in the whispering wood
                     silence

   The faster we go
   The later we arrive
   If at all

   hope springs eternal
             soaps sing internally
                     dead springs snap

   I saw the North wind
   heard the sun rise in the West
   touched the waxing moon

   Angels float on high
             guard the true believers
                     bring them safely home

   The rats of commerce
             rip and rape and pillage
                     in the urban war

   October gale -
             strong tall elm is laid low
                     willow merely bends

   Ice on the bird-bath
             No bread thrown for the tits
                     Monday-morning blues

   DC-10 IN SKY
             CARS CRASH DOWN FROM TOY GARAGE
                     LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE!

   Dirty derelict
             derricks - determination
                     decaying, dying

   ah-ah
             the final whistle sounds
                     we finish our work

© Gerald England

Composed: Gee Cross, 7th March 1992

Publication

1997 International Poetry Supplement (USA)