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August 17, 2012
Some fools are foolish
all their life.
Whilst other fools ‘wise up’,
and take a wife.
He’s gone down to his allotment.
He say’s he’s got a prize ‘marra’,
that’s far too big to carry,
so he’s got to wheel it in his ‘barra’.
She did her share of wild-child living.
She was a rebel without a cause.
So lead her not back into temptation, Lord,
on the good path, let her pause.
If you’re a thrifty person,
and you know how to save.
Never lend it, for to lose it,
will see you in your grave.
‘It’s no use being maudlin’
Georgette said to Fred.
‘I know how much you loved him,
but your goldfish now is DEAD!’
August 15, 2012
Betwixt and between,
I’m stuck in the middle.
Both options looking
perfectly sound.
Beneath and above,
are hard rocks to choose.
Both adamant and
standing their ground.
He passed mustard down the line
to the bottom of the table.
He peppered his conversation with
porkie pies, whenever he was able.
He over-egged the cheese soufflé,
saying, it came from Austria by cable!
He assaulted his guest’s ears
with tales more like a fable.
Then with condiments back in place,
he bolted to the stable,
taking ‘leftovers’ in a feedbag
to his mother’s cousin ‘Sable’.
She had a catgut feeling
that he was onto a racket.
He’d been having a ball
outside of the line.
He swore it wasn’t love,
and begged the advantage.
But when she discovered
what the duce he’d been up to,
it was ‘game over’ and
the net result was ‘love all.’
The judge knew it
The barrister knew it.
The solicitor knew it too.
They had lost on a technicality,
and justice, out of the window, blew.
At the core of all this madness,
there is you.
My saviour and protagonist,
my lover and my rock.
The one who shares my burden,
and helps me to take stock.
At the centre of my world,
there you are.
Ever present, ever stable,
and there to take the flack.
The one who’s at the front line,
to guard me from attack.