Renegade Circus – Barrow To Bangor
What is this show?
Mr Punch with his Club and his Judy.
She calls the Baby home
To scream from the tent
But no-one cares
For the same old, same old.
This is not the way to do it.
The earth in the park is scorched
Where the crowds would sit or stand
Before the Renegade Circus
Brought to the City,
Cheap thrills and sleight.
Shall we shuffle away then, at the end,
A lame apology falling from the creased corners
Of our dry mouths,
That we dared entertain foolish, childish hopes?
There are no fireworks at this freak show,
The Blue touch-paper is drenched
And there is nothing to stand back from,
No gasps, no fun at the flourished whip-crack
Of the blackguard ringmaster,
No magic, no head-dressed horses, no tigers roar.
We who are left look aghast at terrifying clowns,
Who jostle and roll in the dust of our dreams.