The Long Dark Corridor of Winter
A poem in the style of George Formby
It's dark!
It's long!
It's the long dark corridor of winter!
It's long!
It's dark!
It's the dark long corridor of winter!
After Christmas all you get
is freezing cold and soaking wet:
my Lancashire hot pot turns to ice
and missis, that's not very nice
Three months of underheated gloom
like laying out a corpse in a cold front room
tell me just tell me what I can do
when me ukelele's turning blue!
It's dark!
It's long!
It's the long dark corridor of winter!
It's long!
It's dark!
It's the dark long corridor of winter!
I'm from Lancashire not Finland
but I feel like an Arctic bloke
when you have to thaw your breath out to see what you're saying
it really is no joke!
Dark in the morning, dark at night
ghostly mills in ghostly light
I'm not feeling very bright
when winter grips me pencil tight!
It's dark!
It's long!
It's the long dark corridor of winter!
It's long!
It's dark!
It's the dark long corridor of winter!
Ian McMillan. I Found This Shirt. Carcanet.1998.
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