Is there a recorder, somewhere
Noting down our every act?
I doubt the fact
Of god
But who has not
In the depths of dreams
Heard the recorder
That does die with I,
And seen
The thick black book
Wherein his every sin
Is writ?
And when he is gone
The record lives on
Be it known or not.
There once was a don named Ron
Whose lectures just went on and on.
As loud snores filled the room
He would gaze at the moon,
As she slept whilst Ron went on!
A most wicked young lady named Lou
Has written about me and Miss Sue.
Its really quite shocking
And involves Miss Hocking.
We’d sue, but its all perfectly true!
There was a young man named Lyme
Who picked a fight with Father Time.
But old time slipped away.
And on his final day
Lyme made his peace with Father Time.
I met a young lady named Ann
Who was pushing a rather large pram.
She said “they look like you!”.
I replied, “oh god, that’s true!”.
And then I ran from Ann’s pram!
There was a young lady named Rosebud
Whose refrain was Sir, “I never could!”
But after much wine
And sweet music divine,
Modest Miss Rosebud found that she could …
There was a young lady named Grub
Who, being fond of her old bathtub
Bathed in a public place,
Which was a real disgrace!
Though it was a rather fine bathtub …
When reckless men
Play Russian Roulette
With professional women
The bare fact
Of the act
May cause regret.
Whether ‘tis sin
I know not,
But in
The hot
Pleasure of skin
Against skin
They play roulette.
I awoke with the beautiful Miss Spink
Who gave me a very sly wink.
I said, “my dear
How came you here?
And where is your nightdress Miss Spink!”
Sweet cut grass
Gives me pleasure
In soft summer weather,
As I pass
Along the churchyard path.
For below
There is no
Sweet cut grass
To pass.
K Morris - Poet 