She consorts with green spirits bohemian
She’s raising the red flag high again
She’s writing a poem an a great northern train
Unsettling and witty and sharp and urbane

Everyone knows that her stockings are blue
But her lips they are red and her politics too
Her eyes they are green when she’s looking at you
She might kiss you or just run you through

She’s fond of loud noises percussive
Like slapping your face with her glove
Cymbals and drums and tin cans explosive
For her they are objects of love

Hobnobbing with fabulous fairies
She throws all the very best parties
She keeps several men on tight leashes
Who have talents with which she agrees

Communists throw all the best parties! A line that stuck in my mind from a film about Frida Kahlo. This was the premise behind this song. Part Bloomsbury Set, part sheer fantasy. A reflection of my association of leftwing politics with fabulosity and fun, rather than stereotyped soviet dreariness or SWP meeting boredom. Extends the “common knowledge” theme – “everyone knows”. TD