There was a young man called Ed
Who decided his girlfriend to wed.
When he found she hadn’t any money,
He said, “ain’t it funny,
My love for her it is dead!”
There Was A Young Man Called Ed
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There Was A Young Lady Called Lena
There was a young lady called Lena
Who worked as a domestic cleaner.
Clients where very few
And I am afraid it is true
That her customers had never seena!
There Was A Young Lady Called May
There was a young lady called May
Who walked in the fields one day.
She met the queen of the fairies there,
Who said, “beware,
For here you may not stay!”
There Was A Young Man Called Is
There was a young man called Is,
Who married a girl named Ought.
They couldn’t agree
On what should be
And ended up in court!
The Dungeon (Liverpool local history)
An interesting piece on the history of the Dungeon, an area of Liverpool close to where my mum lives. I must confess that the name dungeon conjured up for me visions of dank prison cells, however the Dungeon was, in fact a major salt refinery and a place of considerable historical interest, http://www.roydenhistory.co.uk/mrlhp/local/salt/dungeon.htm.
A Few Humorous Poems for the Festive Season
A few humorous poems for you to enjoy over the festive season:
Christmas Dinner – https://newauthoronline.com/2015/12/24/christmas-dinner-humour-not-to-be-taken-seriously/
Shall I compare Thee? – https://newauthoronline.com/2015/12/12/shall-i-compare-thee/
Werner – https://newauthoronline.com/2016/04/12/werner/
Fleecem and Proper – https://newauthoronline.com/tag/fleecem-and-proper/
Melting Ice
Under the once solid ice sheet
We meet
A demon some persist
In maintaining does not exist.
Deep in his throat he rumbles,
And humanity stumbles
As yet another ice sheet crumbles.
Shortcut
I remember the cut-through,
People drew
Graffiti on the fence,
Perhaps deriving a sense
Of power from their obscene scrawls
On wooden walls.
The Sex Pistols featured there, and perhaps the name of some hapless girl
Was inscribed
In lust and pride.
How the years whirl
By.
Now I can not spy
The narrow place
Where I would trace
Nature’s face
In nettle and bramble
As I did scramble
Through the thicket of my mind.
Now I can not find
the old track
That leads back
To whence I came.
A barred gate
Patiently does wait
And beyond it, my fate?
Cadence
Wind chimes
Sound,
Their cadence more profound
Than these sad rhymes.
Happy Christmas
To all my followers and those of you who have liked and commented on my work, I wish you all a very happy and peaceful Christmas and a new year full of happiness.
Very best wishes, Kevin
