Bin day tomorrow and people have put out their bins as the sun sinks at the top of the road. An early morning collection means they don’t have to get up with the dawn! But actually an urban scene like this has its own charms I think.
Photo copyright to Englepip©
Were they the quartet you waited for
Screamed for and danced for
They certainly were the famous four
In Liverpool town in sixty four.
The rebel Northern group four
Playing In a cellar down a backstreet for
One whole pound more than four
A pound less than a shop girl for
A forty hour week.
But nevertheless they sang,
All four, a quartet of
Love love me do and
You know I love you
And they really wanted
To hold your hand:
They were a very good band.
And do you want to know a secret?
Then get a ticket to ride
With a paperback writer
And I’ll tell you:
All you need is love.
In Penny Lane there was
A barber shop
Where perhaps they got that
Iconic hair crop?
And when the yellow submarine
Sailed with the walrus
Was it to a Norwegian Wood
Or was it back in the USSR?
And did they twist and shout
In the way they moved
And have a hard day’s night
These famous four?
And will they ever know
how much we loved them?
They said if you need somebody
They’d be there.
But now it’s too late to call
All four
That was yesterday
So let it be.
Words and photo copyright Englepip©
” Efficiency is the ratio of useful work to resources expended. In other words, the ratio of the output to the input of a given system.”
They say steam engines were
Really inefficient.
Yet they worked and so
Were icons of their time.
Their powerful engines hissed
As their gliding pistons swished
And the big wheels steadily turned
Upon the line.
Journeying far ‘cross country
Along parallel lines of track
Their smokestacks burning brightly
There and back.
Generations mourn their passing
And old engines they have rescued
Recombining, reassembling
All from the scrap.
They hammer and they chisel
Blacksmithing with a sizzle
Engineering perfect pieces
Of great size.
And when the engine’s finished
They admire her in her glory
Resurrected into power
To run once more.
Then the new steam comes a-fizzing,
From the smoke-stack wildly hissing
And along the lines it’s whizzing
Inefficient maybe yes.
But do we care?
For that old engine it is running
And faithfully it is pulling
Is it not a most amazing sight to see?
And to smell the soot and grime
Feel the rhythm of the line
Is a special thing for all,
Especially me.
Poem and photo copyright to Englepip©
Englepip's World 