(Interior of squat. NARRATOR, JACK, and ANGEL. As NARRATOR begins speaking, ANGEL goes into labour and eventually gives birth.)
NARRATOR:  Smith Street stretches
     from Lowland to Mount Regulation.
     It cruises past park territory,
     the Tuscan splendours.
     The squats where vigilantes
     oust mothers and kids,
     "wallowing among the filth",
     drug paraphernalia, dirty knickers
     and used condoms.
     They think so hard about it
     the place arranges itself
     perfectly for them.
     Their polluted minds
     open up.
     Wire out the poor.
     No squatters. Neat ones
     are the greatest threat. Moving in
     as if nothing's happening.
     Taking over. Upsets
     the balance. The belltower
     needs the taxes.

JACK:  Look! The head's appearing
     out of Angel's darkness.
     It's like the night
     is unfurling.
     The sun's up
     and it's midnight.
     Why is she screaming!?

NARRATOR:  It's a different kind of opening.
     She needs a place to bring it up.

JACK:  We'll tear down the wire,
     we'll dig the garden.
     We'll polish the kitchen tiles.
     Repair the verandah.
     We'll stake a claim,
     we'll open our doors,
     we'll make community.
     My brothers
     will be godfathers.
     The sisters will be godmothers.
     The displaced will wander by
     and bless their child
     in their own language.
     The state won't have enough money
     to evict us. We'll invite
     the newspaper
     for the baby photos.
     We'll sing our lungs out.

MAGISTRATE (entering):  This is justice!
     We'll sing
     as if our lives
     depend on it!

(ALL enter during following.)
NARRATOR:  So we sing for the people of Smith Street.
     We sing for the coppers. We sing for the court.
     We sing for the Liberals who send out
     surveys and spout prayers against debauchery.
     We sing for Mr Clipboard and Mrs Walpurgis,
     we recognise the belltower
     as the true meeting of art and spirit:

ALL (singing, first to the tune of "Ding Dong Bell", and then to the tune of Monty Python's "Every Sperm is Sacred". During this, ANGEL walks downstage with 'baby/bundle'.):

     Big dong bell
     Pussy's in the cell
     We put in her in
     Then we'll let her out

     What a naughty boy was that
     To try to win our vote like that
     Clean the streets by changing laws
     And promise us a sunset clause...

     Every womb is sacred
     Every womb the State
     If a womb gets wayward
     Court can legislate

     (Repeat) Every womb...

 (ALL except NARRATOR exit — singing.)

Smith Street | Mudlark No. 19
Contents | Act 3, Scene Four