an extremely snooty young lady named Glass
Said, “you are so very working class!”.
My good friend Miss Kate
Said, “he owns an estate!”.
And now I am married to Glass!
Snooty Miss Glass
Leave a reply
Tag Archives: crystal palace poetry
Untitled
She will bring her dress and heels.
He will ask about university.
They will talk of the winter weather.
He’ll wonder how she feels
As he takes pleasure
In her short dress and youthful caress.
And hot sugary tea.
The New Club
A new sex club has opened near me
And the locals are angry as can be!
But I hear from Miss Grub
That it’s a very good club,
So I’m going with the vicar to see …
I Once Met a Dog Drinking Beer
I once met a dog drinking beer
Who said, “do you know Miss Ria?”.
I said, “she’s divine
And fond of wine.
But dogs they should not drink beer!”
When a Snobby Young Lady
When a snobby young lady known as Lou
Went and stood in some very strong glue,
And she said to us all,
“I am stuck to this wall!”.
We said, “you’ve always been stuck up Lou!”
Cook’s New Poetry Book
When a poet whose name was Cook
Went and published a new poetry book,
And a young man called Frank
Said, “the pages are all blank!”.
“That’s because it’s blank verse!”, said Cook.
The Monk and the Skunk
When I met an extremely drunk old monk
Who went an threatened me with his skunk,
And I said to Hocking,
“His behaviour is really shocking!”.
She said, “whose? The monk or the skunk!”
Often Poetry is Enough
Often poetry is enough.
But sometimes I find my mind
Occupied by other stuff.
I see young women in heels
Slippery as eels.
Like eels they slip away.
Though some stay.
A moment in time
Caught in rhyme,
When they have gone away.
I Once Met a Very Bad Lad
I once met a very bad lad
Who said, “your poetry makes me sad!”.
I said to him “Moore!
You are a terrible bore!”,
As I soundly beat that bad lad!
How Soon the Lights Go Out
The eternal wind roared last night
Bringing thoughts of Wuthering Heights.
No Heathcliff threw open the window
Imploring Cathy to come in .
Yet I felt the storm grin.
How quickly the lights
Of pubs and clubs go out.
And the reveller’s shout
Is lost in wind and night.
K Morris - Poet 