A young lady whose name is Lou
Has an obsession involving strong glue.
She is extremely posh
And has lots of dosh,
And she’s rather stuck up is Lou!
—
A young lady whose name is Lou
Has an obsession involving strong glue.
She is extremely posh
And has lots of dosh,
But she’s not as stuck up as you!
A naughty young lady named Louise
Has stolen my spare set of keys.
She enters my home
When I’m all alone,
And she wont give back my keys!
I know a young lady named Claire
Who has beautiful, long blonde hair.
My friend Yvette
Is a brunette,
And she doesn’t dye her hair!
Whilst out walking in a maze
I came upon the Krays.
When they demanded all my money
I said, “do you like honey?”,
Which greatly confused the Krays!
I know a young lady most respectable
Who abhors anything at all sexual.
Whilst eating strawberries and cream
She said, “in a dream,
I dreamt that you where almost respectable!”.
2 Goddesses I know
And will go
And worship at their feet
But they may my ardour defeat
And bid me cease,
‘Else they will call the police!
Should I therefore hold my peace,
Or whisper words of love
To a goddess above?
And if I express my passion
To a young lady of fashion,
To which one should
I speak?
I am weak
With desire,
‘Tis best to kill this fire
For ’tis only a delusion
That a goddess could
Give me her love,
And confusion
Would, I maintain
Reign, where I to voice
My love
To 2 goddesses above.
No, I shall stay
Away from goddesses
As there is too much choice . . .
A young lady who is extremely intellectual
Says that there can be nothing sexual.
Whilst in my bathroom full of steam
She said, “you most certainly do seem,
To be a man who is quite intellectual!”.
—
A young lady who is extremely intellectual
Says that there can be nothing sexual.
My bathroom being steamy
She said, “you are seamy,
Whilst I am a true intellectual!”.
—
A young lady who is extremely intellectual
Said, “there can be nothing sexual.
So we spoke of progress,
Then she lost her dress,
But there was nothing at all sexual!
There once was a poet named Lee
Who wrote a poem about a bee,
But his verse being poor
The bee said, “no more!”,
And stung him on the knee!
—
There once was a poet named Lee
Who composed a poem about a bee,
But his verse being poor
The creature said, “I implore,
That you write no more about me!”.
—
There once was a poet named Lee
Who composed a poem about a bee,
But his verse was so very bad
That it drove the creature quite mad,
So he flew into a tree!
A barber whose name is Dave
Invites men in for a shave,
With his large cutthroat razor,
Which he calls the final eraser,
And the police are questioning Dave!
A young lady of Battersea
Invites men round for tea.
A man from Clapham
Says nothing will happen,
But I’m going round to see!
K Morris - Poet 