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No Right Turn

By David Phelps

I will drive home indirectly, I have a fear of turning right.
Oncoming cars head straight towards me, pedestrians obscure my sight.
I will drive home indirectly, I have a fear of turning right.

The police are getting younger, and the weather’s never quite
Right for my temper, though I know it might seem trite,
I know the time’s a-changing, but I have a fear of turning right.

I have a new affinity with the creatures of the night.
The Telegraph’s talking sense and I have felt the bite
Of rabid colonels from Tonbridge. I have a fear of turning right.

There’s litter on the pavement and my anger’s burning bright.
The lady’s not for turning but I’m worried that I might.
Tell me Labour’s not all Balls, I have a fear of turning right.

The world is turning warmer, now it’s either flight or fight.
I cannot take it anymore, please take pity on my plight.
Tell me Marx was not a comic, I have a fear of turning right.

The banks have laid us on our backs and I tell you, things are tight,
So we need a bright new saviour, a fearless, strong white knight,
But that man might have a moustache. I have a fear of turning right.

July 2012

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