War Cry
She stands there in the rain, a Salvation Army lady
selling the War Cry, I think of you in those boozy pubs
spotless crisp uniform and smart bobby pinned bonnet
tights pulled on each morning with white gloves
to stop your nails making ladders,
offering solace to the poor, drunk
and needy-more angelic than evangelic
a kind word, shoulder to cry on,
offering ladders to the man in the sky
the Salvation lady, Liilbut, stands in the rain
I’m waterproof It’s the Irish in me,
you remind me of my Mother I say
she used to sell the War Cry too
we can’t sell it the pubs anymore -it’s too noisy,
I buy one, it’s cheap just 30p-
but to me
priceless