Corporate types programme their likes
Into computers,
Where they are heard
By commuters
And a middle-aged poet
Who romanticises vinyl,
And exchanges a final word
With the barmaid,
Who doesn’t remember vinyl.
Corporate types programme their likes
Into computers,
Where they are heard
By commuters
And a middle-aged poet
Who romanticises vinyl,
And exchanges a final word
With the barmaid,
Who doesn’t remember vinyl.
A careless young lady named Mar
Is known for losing her bra.
While her friend Coral
Is really quite moral
Though I’ve sometimes found her bra …
I forget the last time.
But often look
In dusty books
And find pleasure in rhyme.
I still feed my need
With verse from volumes
Full of musty scent.
But there is another perfume
Of which I sometimes repent
A man whose name was Wood
Said my poetry was no good.
In the forest dark
His end was stark.
But my alibi it was good …
I know a young lady named Rose
Who walks around whilst wearing no clothes.
But when we go shopping
She does wear 1 stocking.
Which I think shows decorum by Rose!
I heard a Blackbird
And did curse
The inadequacy of verse.
He knows not poetry,
Yet outdoes me
In verse.
I awoke with a gorgeous lap dancer
Who said, “sir, you are a chancer!”.
I said, “dear Miss Follit
Have you seen my wallet?”.
She said, “sir, I’m also a chancer!”.
A brutal young man named Keith
Threatened to knock out my teeth.
But I produced my faithful knuckleduster,
Which got him in a fluster,
Now Keith is wearing false teeth …!
My uncle, the good natured Squire Pleasant
Invited me to go and shoot peasant.
I went with my spouse
And found peasants and grouse,
And the police who arrested Squire Pleasant!
I have awoken to an empty bed
And recollections of past sinning
With women.
I have felt spiritually dead
And fought to forget regret
In bed.
But, for a long time
I have engaged
Only in rhyme.
When I leave the stage
Only my rhyme may remain.
For there is no pain when dead.