MANY A TRUE WORD

Every silver lining has its cloud.
It may begin no bigger than a fist,
but early, whether you are dry or pissed,
you'll see it grow like seed of ibn Saud.
All the mouths that you have ever kissed
had their moustaches (yes, you groan aloud),
hard-bristled or so fine they could be missed.

The truth of these two laws alone will last:
the then was always better than the now;
and, second, it does seem to us somehow
that all the present's worse than all the past.
To future moments say a bitter ciao
and recognise that when the dye is cast
you will resent the furrow that you plough.

If you're still short of proverbs, lend an ear:
you'll have it back again. A silk purse will
make bad sows' ears, and little pitchers still
have outsized ones, but listeners never hear
their praises whispered. Yes, the wind is ill
that does not blow us good. Asleep we'll shear
the counted sheep and roast them, have our fill.

First come, first served; the last will be the first;
the first of March the crows begin to search;
the first step is the hardest, though the Church
has worn out many hammers and has cursed
a rosary of heretics. The birch
will soon return, a Christian sharia nursed
in public schools where youthful grousers perch
and scouts are still preparing for the worst.