No. 1336: The winners

Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for a Cockney poem on a London subject.

A Cockney doesn't have to speak Cock- ney, he only has to be born within the sound of Bow Bells, which allows me to give 0. Banfield a prize. The winners below get £10 each. The most enjoyable near-winners were Tim Hopkins, T. Grif- fiths, Llewellin Berg and Fiona Pitt- Kethley.

Oh London Town is tops fer me, fer me and my mate Joe.

Me, I lives down City Road, and 'e's from Bunhill Row.

For we can watch a football match and never pay a fing - There's a back way into Arsenal wot's only tied wiv string.

My grandad's in ver Market, like — a funny ole cocksparrer, But 'e'll give us a quid or two fer 'elping wiv ver barrer.

Or else I puts my titfer on and gets poshed up a treat, And yen we tikes ver 30 bus up West to Oxford Street.

Joe's uncle 'as a little tray, and 'e sells frogs wot 'ops, So Joe 'e does ver 'opping bit, and I looks out fer cops.

We tikes a lotta money orf ver usual sorter shopper, 'Cos they're foreign-like and 'ow-d'yer-like, and none of 'em speaks proper.

'Well at least we're not human.'

Cor, we 'ad some sun vis summer — a record, I bin told - So you could see ver London streets all pived wiv bloomin' gold! (Jocelyn Guilfoyle) I'm writing this'to tell you, Dad, I'm in the nick — now don't get mad!

Last night I went to the rub-a-dub-dub For a pint of pig's and a spot of grub.

I wasn't even elephant's trunk, When suddenly this bleedin' punk Comes up and says, 'I'm 'earts of oak Lend us a fiver!' That's a joke!'

Says I. 'Me skies are empty, mate.' Next thing (and I tell you straight), 'E 'its me on the I suppose.

What 'appened next Gawd only knows . • And now I'm in this flowery dell.

Dear Dad, please get me out — it's 'ell! (Ron Rubln)

If you go down to the Isle of Dogs

You're in for a big surprise; There's a dish renowned for miles around No need to advertise!

If you're young and rash, or short of cash, Or a tourist wanting to have a bash,

And you see the legend EEL PIE AND MASH- Try, and you'll be astounded.

They've left out the comma after the EEL,

So you have to be feeling hearty When a gruesome trio appears on the boards, Laid out as in Brueghel's party - Dollops of wet pink eel heaped high, A gravy-oozing rich brown pie, And a mountain of mash all covered with dye From the emerald sauce around it! (0. Banfield) When I talks abaht the Palace I ain't finkin' of the Queen, Nor the sodgers, nor the 'orses, Nor the patriotic scene.

It's the soccer club I'm meaning, Them as plays at Selhurst Park. To me mates that's clear as crystal, Though it's left you in the dark.

There's football teams in London — Millwall, Arsenal and Spurs,

Fulham, Chelsea, Queen's Park Rangers—

But it's Palace I prefers.

When they're 'ome I'll be there shahtin' With me bovver boots an' scarf, For there ain't no room for dahtin' They're the bloomin' best, not 'arf!

(O. Smith)

Yer can travel rahnd and rahnd on the London Undergrahnd Till yer goes bananas (courtesy of Geest); But at Bank or Leicester Square there ain't nuffin' to compare Ter the lousy, loyal folks at Aldgate East.

Now they say it's quite a lark, trippin' out ter Chiswick Park,

And the restaurants rahnd Kew, they do a feast. But yer can stuff yer fancy meals, I'll 'ave a plate of jellied eels

From a barrer on the street in Aldgate East.

At Victoria yer can use these 'ere Frog-style super-loos,

And a snake's 'iss costs a tosheroon at least. But when I 'ear nature's call yer'll find me Piss° up the wall

Of the 'Og and Donkey back in Aldgate East. Well, it's true these days I'm seen in Finchley Road and Golders Green, Where the gelt piles up and palms are better greased. But I 'aven't changed at 'eart, I'm just a kid 'oo got 'is start With the 'appy 'oodlums dahn in Aldgate East.

(Basil Ransome-Davies)