We’ve just been performing a guerrilla gig
In the middle of another group’s guerrilla gig
Well surely that’s the ultimate guerrilla gig
But still they cried like girls
Road signs on our country lanes
May not be what they seem
Asparagus next left
Who says
I’ve been upstream
Going down there for plum tomatoes
That’s not a good idea
For horse manure 200 yards
Read bottomless perdition
When the club versus country dispute arose
Small children were trampled in the exodus
We all knew someone at primary school
Who had a very powerful magnet
This way for new potatoes
An arrow points innocently
Dirt track to a darker place
That’s what it says to me
Last chance for hanging baskets
They’re even giving you clues
Fresh broad beans and aubergines
Eupemisms Audrey euphemisms
The humble amateur transit van
Vans have become ridiculous
With their strategies and logistics
Vere left for marmalade
I don’t think so Joe
And why are tractors turning
We really ought to know
So stay alert on the minor roads
Remember Phyllis Triggs
Ooh rhubarb let’s go
She’s still not been accounted for
Monkey Man adds:
Anyone know who Phylis Triggs was?
2 comments:
'Four Horseman your 200 yards'
'For 'Horse manure: 200 yards' seems more likely I'd have thought, given the rest of the song?
Don't know who Phyliss Triggs is, sorry.
(Always thought it might be 'remember Phylis, TRICKS!')
Thanks Clarrie. That makes so much more sense! Originally I kept thinking four horsemen of the apocalypse and tied that into "perdition" on the next line. I never could shake that.
MM.
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