There was a young man called Morris
Who laid claim to The Odes of Horace.
When the case came to court
The judge said, “I thought
That The Odes they where written by Borris!”.
There Was A Young Man Called Morris
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Tag Archives: poets
Ad Infinitum
Alone
In her head
She plays with her phone.
Another strange bed.
She gives no discount
To those who drink at the fount
Of her “love”.
“There is no god above”
He thinks as he takes a sup
From another empty cup
Brimful of forget
Regret
Ad infinitum.
Just another item
On his bucket list.
There Was A Young Lady Called May
There was a young lady called May
Who invited me to the ballet.
But being a man of discretion
I shall make no confession
Unless the tabloids they offer to pay …
—
There was a young lady called May
Who introduced me to her housemate Fay.
Back at their flat
I took off my hat
But they didn’t ask me to stay!
May
A mermaid
Most staid
Oft times played
On the seashore
Until one day
The waves carried her away
In a different kind of play.
Now she will dance in May
No more.
There Was A Young Man Called Mo
There was a young man called Mo
Who stood upon my toe.
I gave him a glare
And said “you aint being fair!”,
So he trod on my other toe!
—
There was a young man called Mo
Who trod upon my toe.
So I gave him a glare
And said “you aint being fair!”,
And I told him where to go!
If All Are Dreams Could Be Known
If all our dreams could
Be known
Who then would
Throw the first stone?
Alone in our head
We dread
That one day our dreams will be known.
So tell me my friend will
You still
Be the one to throw the first stone?
When A Young Man Called Kirt
When a young man called Kirt
Borrowed his girlfriend’s skirt.
His brother Guy
Said, with a sigh,
“You look better in tie and shirt!”.
—
When a young man called Kirt
Borrowed his girlfriend’s skirt.
His partner Lou
Said “don’t wear my shoe,
As those stilettos they really hurt!”.
There Was A Young Lady Called Meg
There was a young lady called Meg
Who laid a very large egg.
When the journalists came round
They found nothing profound
As Meg was pulling their leg …!
Hooks
He in his naughty
Forties,
She eighteen or so.
The lamps burn low
As they hang their coats on a hook
And sit down to dine.
The waitress pours wine
Into their glasses
And looks
At hooks
That gleam in the lamp’s low light.
There will be no need for passes
Tonight.
Friday Humour
There was a young man of Doncaster
Who decided his wall to plaster.
He drank lots of beer
Which made him feel queer
And led to a plaster disaster!
—
When a naughty young lady called Bess
Stole a little black dress
A store detective named Guy
Said, with a sigh
“You’ll look great in that little black dress …!”.
—
A pretty young lady called Nell
Rang upon my bell.
I was elsewhere at the time
Composing an intricate rhyme
As I did her large boyfriend tell …
K Morris - Poet 