The Worker

<em>"I'll be directing traffic for years" - John Prescott</em>

When the last of the gas has been guzzled

And the panda and jaguar sleep

Here's an old dog they'll never have muzzled

I'll be out redirecting the sheep

When they've scrunched every car, and they're tossing

The metal to someone who'll sculpt

I'll give hell at a pelican crossing

Bossing bikes that leave little 'uns pulped

When the fast lanes have lost all their functions

And there's grass on the M42

I'll be hand-jiving on at the junctions

Making sure the sedan chairs get through

And when Tony beams down, still seraphic,

From a land where the angels ride asses

I will still be directing the traffic -

The Lollipop Man Of The Masses

This article first appeared in the 02 August 1999 issue of the New Statesman, America says: never again!