The Great and the Good

Why sing of the lives
of the fortunate few
whose gong-heavy entries
weigh down Who’s Who ?

They’re smug on their summits
and on Footsie Boards,
Permanent Secretaries
or rotund Law Lords;

generals, merchant bankers,
Top Brass at the Beeb,
dons, doctors, bishops. . .
You can spot the breed

by their ability
blind obedience to claim
from drudges and drivers
and shy, single, tame

PAs who sacrifice
lonely weekends
to type bland speeches
for skimpy stipends.

O don’t be deceived
by the Great and the Good –
you’re a rung on their ladder
on their fire, wood,

grain for their harvest,
a wheel on their car,
corpse on their D-Day,
night for their star.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them.