I am no poet, for when,
At 10 AM
Men
Of letters drink beer
You will see
A sight most queer,
Namely me
Drinking tea
Or coffee,
So how can I a poet be?!
At 3 AM
When
Men
Of poetry are kept awake
By young ladies of ill repute,
There can be
No dispute
That you will find me
(Unbound)
Locked In the arms of sleep
Profound,
‘Tis enough to make me weep!
So while others get drunk
As the proverbial scunk
I shall sip my coffee
Or tea
And studiously avoid poetry …
There was a man called Lear
Who composed a limerick most queer.
When I asked him “why?”
He made no reply.
Lear is dead I fear.
—
The Lear in the above limerick is, of course Edward Lear, the composer of “The Owl And The Pussycat” and numerous other nonsense verses and limericks, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Lear.
There was a seagull called Mark
Who lived in my local park.
He ate nothing but bread
And was terribly overfed,
That lazy seagull called Mark!
There was a young lady called Georgia
Who worked as a credit card forger.
When she forged the sherif’s credit card
He took it very hard
And imprisoned her in Georgia!
There was a young lady called Ria
Whose view of the world was drear.
She lived all alone
In a castle of stone
With nothing to drink but beer!
There was a young man called Guy
Who wrote a poem about I.
It wasn’t very long,
Being more of a song,
And I think that I was Guy!
There was a young man from Dover
Who suffered from a terrible hangover.
When he called for the hair of the dog
His servant Hogg
Brought him a canine called Rover.
There was a young lady named Lynn
Who wrote a treatise on original sin.
She was rather pretty
And extremely witty
And an expert on original sin!
There was a young lady called May
Who performed in a very strange play.
Having neither beginning nor end
Her friends all contend
That it really wasn’t a play!
There was a young man called Jim
Who asked me to write about him.
I lacked the time
To compose a rhyme
On account of his pretty wife Kim …
K Morris - Poet 