Western Walkabout: Thoughts On Happiness
Richard Harris’s poem muses on what is, perhaps, the most important of all subjects.
Zee French say ‘A’penis
But zee English, ‘Appiness.
Can a chap be hap
In a life of debt
Tied to apron strings
Until Mum cuts him loose
-for the second time,
Umbilically speaking?
No worries, mate
Just keep going.
Put a fiver in the plate
At feel good time
In your church.
Don’t take it to heart
If your woman moons
Over that young priest.
How could his mother
Be happy
Letting him go so young
And so good looking?
There’s no justice,
Is there?
All that youth and
Good looks
Wasted on a junior priest.
While we get older
Our good clothes shrink
Even our ears grow
Along with our debts.
My big brother is happy
He’s demented
He just goes home
And forgets everything
Happy as a bug in a rug
On a cold night
With you in sight
For its supper.
