Taxes to Tincture

Taxes to Tincture

It's survival of the fittest

at the Pharmacy

in the supermarket

in Wales

where your tablets, potions and lotions

are free.

"Am Ddim" the pensioners cry, moving

en masse, arm in arm to the chemist's counter.

"Excuse me my good man, are you the apothecary,

the alchemist that turns taxes into tincture?"

"I am the very same"

said the man with the skeleton head cane.

"What can I do you for"?

"Doctor do ave given me a script,

summat to keep me away from the crypt.

I'm down the surgery every day

as you know, I don't have to pay

I get 10 minutes with the nice foreign man

cos nobody listens

now that I've lost Mam.

Surgery is Ok but if he mentions Hospital

I go away.

I can't walk up to Bronglais on the Hill

I'd rather take a F**k Off suicide pill.

There's nowhere to park

People go there to cark"

There's something not right

People are taking the piss

time to start charging, pay

or it's the Glasgow kiss.

"Am ddim" they cry

"we'll take anything,

cos we don't want to die". 


am ddim: for free