The blossom perished on the tree,
Dame Winter out of bed again -
The mean old crone won't let you be.
With all this trouble in the world,
Diplomacy in disarray,
Disastrous and discordant times
When all that we can do is pray,
There comes a diamond from the dung,
A ray of hope to light our way,
And this week's gleaming beacon is
Prince William's finger. It's OK!
Since fractured in a rugby match
The digit hadn't been quite right,
But thanks to recent surgery
The world can sleep again at night -
Apart from minor niggles like
The people with no food to eat,
The climate changes, various wars,
Oh yes, and Margaret's scalded feet.
A scheduled flight, a train, a cab -
He walks the rest to Number 10.
Who is this brand-new Euro-broom
That sweeps as cheap as normal men
And spurns the chauffeured limo where
His erstwhile colleagues liked to sit?
Romano Prodi - crazy name.
It's not the last we'll hear of it.
Feng shui for dogs? We learn this week
Psychologists of late have found
That strays will be adopted if
You change their kennel decor round.
What changes, though, must we apply
To cure our own indecorous dog
Of nadgering his private parts
And drinking daily from the bog?
The ladies of the WI
At Rylstone have their charms
With a rich autumnal rondeur
To their shoulders, hips and arms
And the modest flush at sundown
Of septembral northern girls
Who for charity's sweet reasons
Pose in nowt but hats and pearls.
As Miss March makes cake-mix naked,
With a sunflower sits Miss May,
And "Jerusalem" and jampot
Seem a million miles away...
So how about some naked poets?
A calendar - d'you think we should?
John Hegley, Newell and Cooper Clarke?
No. Somehow didn't think you would.Reuse content