Everyone In Camden
A little poem for you. Read it nice and rhythmically, in your best Mancunian accent
EVERYONE IN CAMDEN
I was walking down to Camden from Chalk Farm
A spring in my step, shooting pains in my arm
As I passed through the hordes of trendy young things
I felt the ache of alienation age brings
Once upon a time you know, way back when
In the days of punk, I could’ve been one of them
I never really was of course, I never had the legs
I’m just a sad old man in Camden envying the kids
It’s not their youth or sex appeal I wish I had again
It’s their inherent sense of style and their calm aura of Zen
Skinny jeans, loafers, lip rings, studs,
Put that lot together, you can’t help but look the goods
But it’s the hair! The hair! That’s what you most remark;
Everyone in Camden looks like John Cooper Clarke
The girl outside the street cafe, the wino in the park,
Yes, everyone in Camden looks like John Cooper Clarke
Well, someone must’ve started it, perhaps just for a lark
Some Sugar Puffs aficionado down by Camden Lock
But now the introvert, the extrovert, the shy insurance clerk,
The chuggers and the muggers who will rob you after dark,
The cops who’ll never catch them, even the coppers’ narks,
Everyone in Camden looks like John Cooper Clarke
Now, Johnny Clarke’s a hero, I’m telling you the truth
He nourished me with poetry when I was a troubled youth
With Chicken Town and Beasley Street and the Innocents EP
So if his soul inhabits Camden, Camden’s where I want to be
A town blessed with individuals who live for making art
Painting, poetry, music with a heart
Although the young bucks and the musos make me feel I’m from the ark,
That’s OK.
Cos everyone in Camden looks like John Cooper Clarke
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