THE OLD BLATHERSKITES HAVE THEIR SAY, BEWAILING THE CURRENT GENERATION

Jem

Look at those boyos, the swaggering fools,
Lurching through life with their drugs and their drink,
Getting expelled from the National Schools.
Blaring their rock music, how do they think?
Why would their bed mates ever suppose
Their gaudy tattoos and pierced ears and nose
Seem to the rest of us chic, debonaire?
Why do they look like they're not really there?

Dosser

What will they do – become 9 to 5 boys
By snapping their fingers, like that, the fools?
The future's no place for excuses and ploys,
Larking through life with your own set of rules.
They'll never see crooked places made straight,
Or play at musical chairs with the great.
They'll all learn in time they haven't a prayer.
What are they laughing about over there?

Jem

Their nubile companions grown taciturn, grim,
How could these girls be appealing as wives,
These kittens they lent to friends on a whim?
How could their kind lead conventional lives?

Dosser

Imagine them parents, planned or unplanned,
Getting along with no money on hand,
Bathing the kiddies and combing their hair.
Why do they act like they don't really care?

Jem

Or are we just envious, priest-ridden men,
Browbeat and bullied in chapel at ten,

Dosser

Rushed into marriage pre-penetration,
Purity mattering more than sensation.

Jem

Often pretentious,

Dosser

Seldom sincere.

Jem and Dosser

Why do we look like we're not really here?