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Mister Moan
Mister Moan likes to moan
about the weather,
about the people that he’d like to know.
Likes to moan about his neighbours,
his relatives and friends.
He doesn’t really like them
but still pretends.
Mister Moan likes to moan
about the gov’ment,
about the lateness of the buses and the trains.
Likes to moan about the telly,
his many aches and pains.
he moans about the summer sun
and moans about the rains.
Don’t get him started.
And I wonder if he thinks he makes the world a better place?
Perhaps at night he moans about himself.
Does he realise that everybody moans about his face
when they spy him on the way to moan?
On one fateful day a holy bolt of lightning came his way
and out his life was snuffed, he will be missed, they said;
and everyone who knew him said he’s better where he is
six-foot low where the lonely go.
Mister Moan liked to moan
about the weather,
about the people that he did not know.
Liked to moan about his neighbours,
his relatives and friends.
We used to roll our eyes and say
he’s off again.
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