There was a young man named Glyn
Who, wishing to destroy the establishment from within,
Addressed the Carlton Club
From his bathtub,
But they still wouldn’t let him in!
—
There was a young man named Glyn
Who, wishing to destroy the establishment from within,
Addressed the Carlton Club
From his bathtub
Which delighted the ladies within!
She in socks
Stands. His hands
Are done
With fun
And the clocks
Have reached the hour
So they speak
Of the following week.
“Why I hate and love poetry – Is it the goat in me?”, is a long but rewarding read, https://sevencircumstances.com/poetry-and-lyrics/why-i-hate-poetry/
I once knew a man named Oak
Who loved to laugh and joke.
But as he lay dieing
He took to crying,
So I told him a really good joke!
—
I once knew a man named Oak
Who loved to laugh and joke.
But as he lay on his deathbed
He softly said,
“This life ’tis a very poor joke”!
A young lady who’s name is Michelle
Is well known in a certain hotel.
When entering my room
In the depths of the gloom
I regret she tripped and fell.
As I sat drinking
I fell to thinking
On how some lack inhibition
Which leads to perdition.
Too many a glass
Has led lad and lass
Astray. Yet the hay
Is sweet in summertime
And I have heard say
That there is more to life than rhyme.
There was a young lady named Black
Who’s heels went clickety-clack.
She could be seen each night
Standing under a red light.
They say she was hooked on Crack
I know a young lady named Dawn
Who owns a pet unicorn.
When we met last night
By the star’s bright light
We danced with that pet unicorn.
—
I know a young lady named Dawn
Who owns a pet unicorn.
While round at mine
We got drunk on wine
And I saw her pet unicorn!
—
While searching for my unicorn
I met a policewoman named Dawn.
When she said, “you are out late”.
I asked her out on a date
And so our love was born!
There is no heat
From cold feet
Yet the heart
May be warm.
The skin may be hot
But the heart
Not
And truth lie in art,
Or not
Do young women show interest in old men?
No, it is not usually so
Though when
Such men
Have money
Its queer
How a certain kind of honey
Will make herself
Most agreeable to the beer
Belly and receeding hair.
But how dare
You whisper “’tis his wealth that attracts her …”!
K Morris - Poet 