The Death Of An Industry


1. The Death Of An Industry

The Death of an Industry


The optics have all got cataracts,

their eyes are obsolete.

The stools may as well be fungi,

they're rooted at the feet.

The pumps have all been pumped,

their sparklers have lost the spark.

The lights have all been put out,

they're sitting in the dark.

Now the nuts are in padded cells

or on the shelves in Tesco.

The Alchy's have all retired

or drink in the park – Al Fresco.

The joy has all been laughed,

there's nothing more to say.

This poems getting daft,

as the landlords fade to grey.


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