afternoon the ice cream man
has driven his magnetic van
from Angkor Wat or Isfahan
to park down by the meadows.
The captain of a pirate ship
he struggles hard to keep his grip
With cannonades of strawberry whip
Delivered through the windows
Done over pink for eye appeal
With rainbow discs on every wheel
A mass of metal glorified
and this amazing man inside,
It must be standing on tiptoe
for scoops of Technicolor snow
that makes the man look royal.
To me he looks a normal bloke,
with a second line in lukewarm coke,
Busting for a decent smoke,
to break the round of toil.
I guess I've got a jaundiced eye,
the children never spot the lie,
They're queuing up and reaching high
for something that tastes lovely
Neapolitan wafers make the day
The king is in his castle gay
And they're behind him all the way
Who'd guess from how they make a meal
With darting tongue and teeth of steel
from a mess of frigid cochineal
That they were born to sorrow
Gone to dust, the age of kings
Lost the taste for simple things
If only time would give me wings
I'd double back tomorrow you
4.9
