Have you noticed the Town Crier
has all but disappeared?
If the wages were much higher
the job might be revered
and unemployment fall
as one an all
competed for each magnivocal post.
(Your shout must be heard from coast to coast)
I woke. Careful not to make a fuss
I tiptoed to the window of the bus . .
(Oh, did I forget to say
I'd nodded off on my way
to the Job Centre
with glowing references from my mentor?)
Observe from the top-deck's lofty height
not a single Town Crier in sight!
Oh joy! 'Tis the right time to apply.
I think I stand a chance
of the job. I really fanc-
-y the big brass handbell,
that and the awesome tricorn hat . . .
further . . . it's been my lifelong wish
to bang on in the street about the price of fish
and bits of local news like that.
Alright, I know you're thinking "Prat!"
But I long since guessed
I wouldn't need to wear
costume for costume parties,
would I? I'd be ready-dressed.
Already I suspect
you're preparing brickbats.
That is your democratic right.
But if you expect-
orate on my shiny Crier's shoes
one stentorian "OYEZ, OYEZ!"
will blow you clean away.
And remember - when I use
my hundred decibel "NOW HEAR THIS!"
every village Miss
will stop to wish me well,
saying "Oh Man, you ring MY bell"
Mums with prams and joggers with dogs in tow
will mutter "A waste of space!" and "I don't know!"
Mockers beware! I'm rehearsing my dreaded cry
"Repent! THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH!"