There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
She would walk around town
In the vicar’s dressing gown.
Believe me its perfectly true!
—
There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
As she walked down the street
In nought but her bare feet
The vicar he ran after Lou
—
There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
As she strolled through the town
In the vicar’s dressing gown,
His wife she would run after Lou!
She arrives in heels and skirt
Or perchance
In jeans and t-shirt.
‘Tis the oldest dance
Which the ignorant call romance.
The CCTV
Does not see
The deals
She seals
In rooms where the lonely sit
Waiting for “their bit
Of fun”.
Perhaps she will leave with the morning sun,
Or be done
With a quick flick
Of her supple wrist, and depart in a cloud of scent
And with a click
Of heel, leaving him to smile
For a while
Or maybe repent
Of the money spent
When I met a young lady called Spink
Who was dressed all in pink,
My dear friend Lou
Said “how-do-you-do”
And gave me a knowing wink!
Kiss me not
For you are hot
And I am not.
Take me not
To a place of bliss
For I do not
Deserve your kiss.
Why do you tease
And please
Me so?
Methinks
Little minx
Tis because you know
I must let go …
Windswept
He almost wept
At the impermanence of things.
Day brings
On the night.
Rome once shone bright.
Man’s desire
For empire
And a girl’s bright
Eyes
Soon dies.
This table
So stable
Must go.
The wind will blow
And snuff out the light
Bringing down the eternal
Night.
There is no fiend infernal
Just the knowledge that I
And all things will,
One day die.
Would that my mind
Could be still.
In humankind
We find
The wish to procreate,
Ere it is too late
And our candle dies.
Man sighs
In a girl’s arms.
The wind will blow.
Her charms
(And his) must go
But perchance
Passion’s dance
Will leave one behind
To walk on a windswept day
And know
That as the wind does blow
All this will pass away.
When a careless young man called Howe
Fell from a very high bough
A farmer, named Guy
Said, with a cry
“You have fallen on my prize cow!”.
(The name “Howe” is pronounced “How).
There was a young lady called Samantha
Who met in spring with a panther.
Come the summertime
I wrote a rhyme
About a girl who’s name was Samantha …
An elderly billionaire called Paul
Lived in a very grand hall.
His young wife Claire
Left her shoes on the stair
And inherited that very grand hall …
He thinks
On water nymphs
Who do not care.
The flow
Will go
Nowhere.
Crisis is a charity which does excellent work aimed at tackling homelessness in the United Kingdom. The charity’s poet in residence has written a powerful poem “If Everybody Is in”, which can be found in the video below:,
Kevin
K Morris - Poet 