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Pea and Honey Recipes
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I Eat My Peas With Honey
And tales of derring-do.
Four lines, they can be rhyming
(That's Glow Worms to me and you).
Ending line is as usual.
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And Lord George-Brown would never budge from square leg. "Many modern poems are like bells of lead. They should tinkle melodiously, but usually they just klunk." (Dunsany) Can we tinkle a little more melodiously, please?
I wish melodious tinkles would
Less often splash the seat [irach] That's what you were angling for, isn't it?
But sitting isn't manly
When your trochees touch your feet
I wish I were a radio mic
Attached to Gordon Brown oblig.
Then I could let the whole world know
Why governments fall down mercy
I wish my suitcase would come back
From far-off Timbuktu
Alas, its British Airways - from bitter experience
So my bag's now in Peru
I wish I'd never mentioned
My girl-friend to my Mum
As now she wants to meet her
And then become her chum
I wish I were a conker (Softers) This has happened to me in the past. It is Not Good.
A hundreder at least
With n'eer a dent upon me
I'd slay the slimy beast!
I wish I were a croûton
Dunked in hot onion soup
From then I'd become soggy
And lost in all the gloop.
I wish I was in England just got off the ferry from Hull this morning and feeling very foreign here again - but managed to use my clumsy Dutch to ask for change to use the car wash - hurrah!
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