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Pounds and ounces

Bushels and pecks and barleycorns

a glorious inheritance

chains, leagues, gills

the tides of history the great

rolling mass of history, our

reclaimed birthright


one holds back a tear

while ordering a quarter of humbugs


for everything is quantifiably

British now, we can

measure our waiting lists

in leagues, count our

dead by the hundredweight

observe the roods of sleeping bags

and cardboard

the queue at the food bank

is ten perches long

(or ten rods, if you

prefer, either way, it's 250 links)


two gallons to the peck of tears

four to the half bushel


emphasise the Imperial

ahead of the measurement, and

why stop there?


why not count the flow of money

in florins settling gently

on the floors of offshore counting-houses


Universal Credit, reduced by guineas

but a thrupennny bit

for nurses, be grateful


have a shilling, console yourself

that even if there's no food on the shelves

at least we can measure nothing in ounces

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