When a young lady named Lake
Said “your poetry is very opaque!”,
I wrote one in Latin
About girls in pink satin
Who keep wicked old poets awake …!
When a young lady named Lake
Said “your poetry is very opaque!”,
I wrote one in Latin
About girls in pink satin
Who keep wicked old poets awake …!
When a young man known as Byron
Went and dated a sexy young Siren,
They found his socks
On some treacherous rocks.
But there was no sign of Byron …!
When a plucky young man known as Moore
Went and insulted my mother in law,
And my wife Mrs White
Said, “challenge him to a fight!”,
I said, “but she is a terrible bore!”
As a boy, I knew the nursery rhyme
“The cow jumped over the moon”.
Then, as a man, I learned too soon
That “the cat and the fiddle”
And the jumping bovine, are conquered by time.
Yet, like the child, I find
Rapture in rhyme.
When a young lady named Moore
Went and knocked at a midnight door,
I recall how Bishop Paul
Said, “we all sometimes fall”,
As he opened that midnight door …
The sunlight falls
On Whitehall’s walls.
Some regret the sunset.
But all fires die.
And I delight
In morning light
And Kipling who foresaw
Empire might not endure
I am conscious of the breeze
In the trees
As the vehicles pass me by.
Back at my flat
I go to my open window
And hear the eternal breeze
Passing through the trees.
I am culture.
A vulture
In love with poetry.
A man
Of passing lusts
Who will be free
In dust.
A young lady of a very ancient profession
Is well known for her tact and discretion.
I’ve seen her in town
With her friend vicar Brown –
They think I possess great tact and discretion …!
I know a young lady of Malta
And no-one is able to fault her.
But back at mine
She crosses a line –
But nobody knows that in Malta …!