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A Geordie's Dream

I woke up this morning afraid of my door,

I felt like I just couldn't take any more.

I looked up at the sky for the word of the Lord,

But the Big Man up there wasn't saying no word.

I stepped outside and there was David Cameron,

Just standing there without any shame in him.

He was smiling and holding out his big wide hand,

Saying, "Come to me, I'm the Big Get in the land."

I said to him: "Hey, Big Man, what's the score

"With this Bedroom Tax? Don't you care no more?"

I tried to listen but he began to ramble,

So I turned my back on him and began to amble.

I had no time to take none of his jive,

I had people to meet in Newcastle live.

I was going to the Bigg Market to have tea with the Queen.

I wasn't going back to what I had been.

Last time I had seen her was at the Tall Ships,

Now I was meeting her over pollock and chips.

I crossed the Tyne Bridge thinking Gateshead's a dump;

Just looking at it made me want to jump.

On the bridge was a throng of cameras and crew.

They were waiting for Spielberg to tell them what to do.

Striding across it was Michael Caine,

Above the High Level Bridge was the royal train.

I didn't have time to stop and talk.

I pushed through the stars and continued to walk.

Tim Healy was in top hat and monocle,

Trying to speak posh for the Evening Chronicle.

I'll be watching a musical later with Lloyd Webber:

At the Star And Shadow, we'll all sing it together.

I'm so lucky to live here in the North,

When such opportunity and talent spring forth,

Not in the Capital where the days are all grey

And I can't understand a word that they say

And eleven gods they worship each Saturday,

In a huge iron dome, all dressed the same way.

Up here is colourful black and white,

Whose supporters love to end up in a fight.

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