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Ten days ago there was too much snow for my liking, but snow is just a natural phenomenon and we can only do our best to deal with it, whereas social ownership of public utilities needed in the snow is another matter entirely, imo.

Anyhow, I wrote this song and fugue, but then came down with big fever and didn’t publish it on the day as intended, so here it goes. (With my commiserations to London Transport or whatever is left of it).

Any thoughts, social or musical are welcome.

Thanks for listening.

Tuesday noon

(canzona e fuga a quattro voce)

February goes out full of snow,
It's quite normal as far as I know, (full of snow)
I feel frozen in this crude bus stop,
ineffective just to any heaven drop.

So I wonder who made this design,
just pathetic in snow or sunshine,
if it's better to stand out of it,
and enjoy this freezing snow storm bit by bit.

Able bodied and strong as I am,
I still curse all executive scum, (L. T. scum)
who make plans in a country like this,
out of all of us taking the piss.

Hypothermia cannot be endured,
can you keep some old souls re-assured,
that your plans have at heart their interests, (your designs)
can you do that, executive (creepy) pests?

Come outside, stand with us in this stop,
to find out, you deserve the long rope, (just the rope)
in hot summer or wintery cold,
good old London no more for the old.

(Fuga per finire)
Yesterday in the snow blizzard,
I met with an abrasive young lizard,
in a few words he justified
all social death, but then he died.

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