There was a young lady called Bland
Who asked for a one-night stand.
I said “that is all right.
You can stand there all night,
But she didn’t understand …!
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She Doesn’t Care For Her Hair To Be Touched
She doesn’t care
For her hair
To be touched.
Nor her face
As that would displace
The makeup she with such
Careful hands applies.
Man dies
As he enters in
To a perfection
Of skin
Sin
And rejection
There Was A Young Lady Called Lou
There was a young lady called Lou
Who caused quite a to-do
When she found me in her bedroom
Bathed in expensive perfume
And trying on her shoe …
There Was A Young Lady Called White
There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
When she entered my room
In the depths of the gloom
I received a terrible fright!
There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
When she entered my room
In the depths of the gloom
I said”please, turn on the light!”.
There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
When she entered my room
In the December gloom
I said “is that you, Miss White?”
There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
My good friend Jane
Does maintain
That she haunts her house at night!
There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
The drink making me brave
I slept on her grave
But I didn’t see Miss White!
There Was A Young Lady Of France
There was a young lady of France
Who performed an erotic rain dance.
A young man walking by
Said “the weather it remains dry,
But I really like your dance!”.
There was a young lady of France
Who performed an erotic rain dance.
When a young man walking by
Just happened to catch her eye
It led to a little romance!
Watching TV
Surfing TV
I see
She
Selling products that neither you nor I
Have ever thought to buy.
Flicking channels I see
Another vapid she
Pretty as the picture on a new TV.
I can not decide
Whether to turn over to the other side
Where boys say “mom” in identikit
American voices.
So many “choices”
To sit
And see
On my TV …
No Big brother watching me
Through my TV
Just advertisers selling me things that I
Have no need to buy.
Should I look
At a book
Instead?
Or go to bed
And dream of Hollywood where all are free
To watch the same crap TV?
Ships That Pass In The Night
Earlier today, a colleague who I haden’t seen for a couple of days sat next to me.
“Did you enjoy your leave?” I asked.
“I was working at home earlier in the week, then I was sitting at the other side of the office yesterday. We are like ships that pass in the night”, she replied laughing.
The phrase “ships that pass in the night” has always had a slight ring of melancholy beauty about it for me, and my colleague’s humorous remark caused me to go in search of poems on that theme. Below are 2 such poems, both of which are in the public domain:
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
—
Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing;
I look far out into the pregnant night,
Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
And catch the gleaming of a random light,
That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.
My tearful eyes my soul’s deep hurt are glassing;
For I would hail and check that ship of ships.
I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud,
My voice falls dead a foot from mine own lips,
And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, passing, passing.
O Earth, O Sky, O Ocean, both surpassing,
O heart of mine, O soul that dreads the dark!
Is there no hope for me? Is there no way
That I may sight and check that speeding bark
Which out of sight and sound is passing, passing
(Paul Lawrence Dunbar)
There Was A Young Man Called Paul
There was a young man called Paul
Who danced on my garden wall.
My philosophical friend Jane
Said “I do maintain
That Paul will one day fall.
Overheated
I wonder
Will the thunder
Come today or tomorrow
And will the rain defeat
This heat?
I wish the weather would break
And the rain
Cool my overheated brain.
For the sake
Of this dry earth and me
I desire
This fire
To cease and set me free.
The Beast In Man
I shower
And make myself respectable for the day
But say
Who has the power
To take the beast in man away?
I find
That many are kind
And that I can be kind in return
For man does learn
That it is pleasanter that way,
But say
Who can take the beast in man away?
When I smile
There can be no denial
That people like me that way,
But say
Who can take the beast in man away?
The Utopians say
That there will come a day
When man will not be this way,
But say
Have they not
Also got
Feet of clay?