About Me

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Edinburgh, United Kingdom
I am a Textile Designer/Maker based in Edinburgh, I specialise in printed and stitched textiles which I studied at Duncan of Jordanstone Art School, Dundee. Why the hell Dundee you ask? It was a long way to go from my home town of Luton, but its a long story which I won't bore you with. I grew up in and around an 'antique but mostly second hand' furniture shop and was raised as a (not so devout) Catholic. My sir name in case you're wondering, is Irish. My dad comes from county Leitrim in Ireland, where you will find many more Gallogly's, though luckily we're still a rare breed.

Monday 28 September 2009

We're going to see the rabbit...

We are going to see the rabbit.

We are going to see the rabbit.

Which rabbit, people say?

Which rabbit, ask the children?

WHICH rabbit?

The only rabbit,

The only rabbit in England,

Sitting behind a barbed-wire fence

Under the floodlights, neon lights,

Sodium lights,

Nibbling grass

On the only patch of grass

In England, in England

(Except the grass by the hoardings

Which doesn’t count ).

We are going to see the rabbit

And we must be there on time.

First we shall go by escalator,

Then we shall go by underground,

And then we shall go by motorway,

And then by helicopter way,

And the last ten yards we shall have to go on foot.

And now we are going

All the way to see the rabbit,

We are nearly there,

We are longing to see it,

And so is the crowd

Which is here in thousands

With mounted policemen

And big loudspeakers

And bands and banners,

And everyone has come a long way.

But soon we shall see it

Sitting and nibbling

The blades of grass

In – but something has gone wrong !

Why is everyone so angry,

Why is everyone jostling

And slanging and complaining?

The rabbit has gone,

Yes, the rabbit has gone.

He has actually burrowed down into the earth

And made himself a warren, under the earth

Despite all these people.

And what shall we do?

What CAN we do?

It is all a pity, you must be disappointed,

Go home and do something else for today,

Go home again, go home for today.

For you cannot hear the rabbit, under the earth,

Remarking rather sadly to himself, by himself,

As he rests in his warren, under the earth:

“It won’t be long, they are bound to come,

They are bound to come and find me, even here.”


Great Poem. I was driving along and heard it on Radio 4, while trying to seek sanctuary from the idiocy of Radio 1. Sanctuary indeed. How does Chris Moylles (I hope I've spelt that incorrectly) have a job with the BBC? don't get me started on the others.

2 comments:

Catherine said...

I love this poem and have really enjoyed your blog!

Paul Fryer said...

The poem is by Alan Brownjohn. You need to credit people if you use their work.