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