The Minstrel In The Gallery

Looked Down Upon The Smiling Faces.

He Met The Gazes Observed The Spaces

Between The Old Men's Cackle.

He Brewed A Song Of Love And Hatred,

Oblique Suggestions And He Waited.

He Polarized The Pumpkin-eaters,

Static-humming Panel-beaters,

Freshly Day-glow'd Factory Cheaters

(salaried And Collar-scrubbing).

He Titillated Men-of-action

Belly Warming, Hands Still Rubbing

On The Parts They Never Mention.

He Pacified The Nappy-suffering, Infant-bleating,

One-line Jokers, T.V. Documentary Makers

(overfed And Undertakers).

Sunday Paper Backgammon Players

Family-scarred And Women-haters.

Then He Called The Band Down To The Stage

And He Looked At All The Friends He'd Made.



The Minstrel In The Gallery

Looked Down On The Rabbit-run.

And Threw Away His Looking-glass -

Saw His Face In Everyone.