A poem about our Council Highways Department, when they resurfaced our road.
The Council Highwaymen
Not long ago on one wet morning
We found strange markings on our road
Was this some alien beings from Mars
No just guys from the Council Yard
A few days later a letter came
We're resurfacing your road on August 1st.
Please remove your cars by seven-thirty
So the road's clear, and we can get started
The Council usually have come
With some black stuff and a strange "ponch"
They used this stuff to fill the holes
Then "ponch" it down with this strange thing
Then they'd go away the job done
In no time at all the hole's back again
Leaving craters to wreck our cars
Tyres, wheels and suspension bars
So August 1st, the great day came
And their letter was obeyed
No cars in sight, the road was clear
The clearest it's been for many a year
Seven-thirty on the dot, they came
With brushes, shovels and a strange machine
So this machine they started up
And I swear the whole house shook
Rumbling along, digging a hole
Fifty yards long and six feet wide
By nine o'clock it was done
And they disappeared 'til half-past-one
Eventually they came back
With a lorry load of Tarmac
With brushes, shovels and a roller
They filled the hole, and rolled it over
The job's half done, is that it
They're packing up and going away
They'll do the rest another day
When asked why they left the other side
They said "because it's always full of cars"
"So it doesn't get as much wear"
"But it will be done, have no fear"
"If not this, maybe next year"
Now I shouldn't moan about our Council
As Council's go they're good in general
The Highway's Dept. are the weakest link
Maybe, like us, they're always skint.
(Still waiting for the job to be finished 18 months on)