Ask me

Ask me what I can offer you, patrons,
primarchs of economy and government,
Ask me what came of my education,
I have lost the ability to work stone
and fire bricks - I can't grow Applewood
in my warm rooms or my London flats
I can't colour ginger beer with glass coils
and beakers that shatter under light
I can't write adventure tales long-hand
or interviews with sportstars in short-hand
or operate as any kind of farm-hand

Ask me what I can offer my country
and I will turn out my coat lining
for receipts, go over rental contracts
and scribble over photos in magazines
until I have been offered a profession
by my family (as the old formular suggests,)
or I'll joke that I might practice law
and offer you a suit - or several

or I'll turn the question on its head

but ask me what I can't offer
and I'll write a hundred and thirty printable poems
on the blank side of your Oxford diploma
that you might pass them off as your own