Have with you to Savile Row

Clothes make the man

that’s what my mother says,

and it’s known for a truth

throughout the civilised world.

So in that scruffy jacket

can we be the same species?

In those baggy, creased trousers

can you be truly human?

Put on a proper suit.

You can trust a man with a tie

that’s what my mother says

and it’s known for a truth

throughout the civilised world.

So what do you call that

piece of cloth round your collar?

Are you Slipknot or Windsor?

Tell-Truth or Tell-a-Lie?

Do up your tie.

Words are the dress of thought

that’s what my mother says

and it’s known for a truth

throughout the civilised world.

So what are you thinking of,

keeping Mum when the band

strikes up our six patriot notes?

Fill your lungs full of air,

sing the national anthem.

When the argument’s lost,

get the man, say the orators,

and no-one recalls, for now,

how you shafted my argument.

So when the progressives come

in beards, trainers and torn jeans

I’ll straighten my tie, shoot a cuff,

and, quoting my mother, tell them

No need to get personal.

Categorised in: Article

This post was written by John Gohorry