The waistband feels a tad too tight,
The head is fugged, the wallet's thin
And resolutions clog the bin.
That's when the meter men appear
With taxman bringing up the rear.
Best thing to do is stay in bed
And send your clone to work instead.
It's chaos on the trading floor...
A little bundle at the door
Of kisses, curses, custard pies -
Midst mingled aahs and skeptic sighs
The baby euro's trundled in
While Britain grumbles at the din.
A Saxon chieftain and his horse
Lay undisturbed in chalky ground
For fourteen hundred years or so
And slept the centuries away.
Much later, over fens and farms
Around the Suffolk air force base,
Another German warrior flew
Then fell to earth and lost the day.
"Well met," the Saxon soldier said.
"We've changed a bit since oxen carts
But not so fast you'd notice it.
They take their time around these parts
Where warriors younger now than you
Still gird themselves for battle zones.
Lie down, young flier. The day may come
When men will marvel at your bones."
Impeachment. It's a curious word,
Most often found with President
Confusing what he said he meant
When evidence is later heard.
I used to think, some years ago,
Impeachment meant "to place in peach,
Pushed into pulp to fill a breech".
It doesn't. (Bet he'd like it though.)
And we who have survived the flu
Without a call to 999
Have got some stern research to do
Regarding health claims made for wine.
They say it perks the brain-cells up.
How interesting: now where's my cup?
So it's official: in-flight food
Is gastronomic guck from hell,
Congealed, fibrous, leathery,
Synthetic, overcooked as well.
Does Egon Ronay tell the truth?
Do Virgin trains run out of diesel?
They do - like I run out of space.
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