I woke up one morning with this image in my head,
It was a rubber tumble drier and a Russian made of lead.
There was a penguin with a razor nailing chickens to a chair,
and a Turkish Hoover salesman with Noel Edmonds in his hair.
There were lobes of different sizes playing tennis in the snow,
an enchanted land called eyeball where furry balaclavas grow.
A toothbrush and a mattress leaving footprints in your bed,
an opera-singing teapot and a nostril painted red.
Smiling concrete sofas flying west across the sky,
an exploding purple hedgehog and a floating chicken pie.
There was a Welshman in a bread-bin having dinner with a goat,
and a paper Yorkshire miner with a cooker in his throat.
A double-bed in Paris plucking budgies with the pope,
sitting in a vat of butter watching tea-towels smoking dope.
