Matchstick Bikes

Matchstick Bikes To tinkers and toilers I salute, From mending boilers to weaving jute, Man and boy for generations, I will unemploy your occupations. To brewers in sheds I sink a few beers To wet the heads of our engineers, From flat cloth caps to matchstick men, I will see the collapse of pushers of pens. To bakers, tailors I wish you well, To the soldiers and sailors who fought and fell, From doctors, nurses to hobnail boots, I will give your purses to thieves in suits. To the grieving docks I drink a toast, To tackle and blocks and shipyard ghosts, From warehouses, workshops to fishing trawls, I will flick my mop in empty halls. To union dues I shake your hand, To cleaning loos and farming land, From railway gauges to industry, I will turn the pages of history. To factory lines I raise my glass, 'Neath abandoned mines of times now past, From overtime to austerity, I will frame the grime for posterity. To the silent mills I tip my hat, To what ever ills and this and that, From a steelworks spew to a builders hole, I will stand in a queue to draw my dole. To finance, the city I bow in awe, To show no pity, to flout the law, From sellers, buyers to pickets and strikes I will slash the tyres of your matchstick bikes. © RJVHorton2016