 Liberation 1. Serving Wisdom Tha wants to hear 'ow tha nannan saved tarn al tell thee. a were nowt but a serving oik to big bosses on r tarn. serving 'em sup a were an they were in a reet tacking seein as son lads from another tarn as said 'Thas best do as we ask else we'll beat thee black and blue. Know what am saying?' "We want tha lasses, wives and girlfriends fort neet or maybe longa." In a reet to do. Well as bein a serving oik a 'ad an idea. So a pipes up "al sort it for thee." an they continued wi their yammer. " a said, al sort it. For thee." an their still yammer, yammer. a slams full pint pot dahn so's it splashes all o'er "Lunk'eads! A said al sort for thee!" Well, they eyes me up and dahn like a were summat art a tarn. A were a bit on a looker then, tits pointy, reet curve on ma hips and dash a blonde hair. Then been so engrossed they'd not noticed us. "Well!", chief boss says. A outlines plan to 'em while they're eyeing up me goods, int plan a volunteered a stack o' me female mates to join us. An it were on. 2. Second Best Dress Bosses telled their wives an girlfriends o' plan, an telled 'em to keep stum. Some o'them lasses as doubted us lot lower dahn pecking order could do job reet. Snobby bitches. They says "We'll tek 'em in an teach 'em how to play part." A told our stack o' lasses an they were game. So all on us volunteers turns up at posh lasses doors and got a reet pampering. "Tha dunt want too much, else tha'll stink like a whore." she dabs rose petal scent on us, rouge's me cheeks, chooses second best linen for us "Dunt want you showing us up." an a were saving her. Other lasses had been tret same, but now all on us were off to meet wi enemy artside tarn. a gev lasses advice. "Play hard to get, first. Thas posh, remember. Up to them to woo thee." 3. Liberation When us turns up they've laid on a reet spread for us, hot meat and fresh fish platters, rice, pasta and sweet wine. bearded enemy is all in a line up to the tables. "Are you their wives and girlfriends?", one o' them asks. A walk along line o' men. Stop. Pull a lads goatee beard towards ma tits an say " No, we're shit under thee booit. Av got some goats milk 'ere that wants suppin'." an ma tits in his marth. One o' other lasses, reveals a thigh an says, "ma fig wants chewin' on." Yet another pouts her lips, "a need a tongue to tek, ma nectar" an snogs one o' the enemy. soon all are coupled up, an suppin' place dry an sossled an ma lasses are play fightin' wi enemies weapons an hidin' them away lad on ma breast as his hands all o'er, a gently prise him off, "Time, yet, lover, time." an sneak artside an climb a wild fig tree, an raise a torch art on folds a ma dress leet it so's bosses can see. an bosses come dahn on enemy fistin', cuttin' av blood splattered o'er her second best dress, ma rouge is redder. beat 'em soundly we did, atter wi were gin r freedom fort savin' tarn. an that's why we're 'ere under wild fig tree, suppin' goats milk an lasses play fightin o'er yonder.  Paul Brookes was shop assistant, security guard, postman, admin. assistant, lecturer, poetry performer, with "Rats for Love" and his work included in "Rats for Love: The Book", Bristol Broadsides, 1990. His first chapbook was "The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley", Dearne Community Arts, 1993. He has read his work on BBC Radio Bristol and had a creative writing workshop for sixth formers broadcast on BBC Radio Five Live. Recently published in Clear Poetry, The Bees Are Dead, Live Nude Poems and others.
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