Tom, Tom the Pipers Son, Jon Snow and me

by Martin McGann

I’m in the corner of the living room and
many noises cross me.
My mind is probably miles away.

Mary sits elsewhere wailing happily.
Tom, Tom the Pipers son, the first in her
book of nursery rhymes.

On television a stern Jon Snow
discusses youth delinquence and I
can hear the CD player left on

next door, Steeleye Span.
Tom, apparently in his young teens and
fit enough to carry a pig. This pig was

left, it seems, handily within reach
for his act of theft to be possible. A hired
expert on Ch4 says that

shopkeepers, as this butcher, make it too
easy for the children to
shoplift. Is it like this with our Tom?

Tom, obviously having the appetite to sustain
such athleticism eats the pig thus hiding
the evidence of his crime.

A ghost like God of questioning who
usually loungers within me is
awake now. Tom is beat and

I wonder, quickly, whether that was the right
action to take while on Ch4
The European Court of Human Rights bans smacking.