Liberation by Paul Brookes

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.

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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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