K. Morris's Blog, page 7

Moriah and the British Empire

When a most forgetful old lady named Moriah

Asked, “what has happened to the British Empire?”,

And they said, “it is long gone!”,

She sighed and said, “eaten by Ron”.

She’s a most amusing old lady is Moriah!

 

Piano Tuner

She spoke of the blind man

Who came to tune the family piano.

 

 

He thinks her name was Emily.

But men’s memories play tricks

And time slips

Unnoticed away.

 

He can not say

Whether she played the piano.

Perhaps she said

But his man’s mind

Was on bed.

 

It was an old tune

They played

Constrained by time.

 

He finds a blind piano tuner

He never met.

And Emily on his mind.

 

 

And lost in introspection

He searches for a connection

And recalls their night’s conversation

Followed by bed.

 

When I Saw My Dear Friend Miss Marr

When I saw my dear friend Miss Marr

Drinking good brandy and smoking a fine cigar,

And I mistook her for Churchill,

She said, “my name is Bill!

And why are you wearing my new bra!”

A Philosophical Encounter

When I met a pretty Utilitarian last night

Who told me her name was Miss White,

We discussed pleasure and pain.

Then we did that again.

As reading Bentham filled us both with delight!

White Van Man

When a cultured young lady named Ann

Went and dated a white van man,

She spoke of great Shakespeare,

Which he found quite queer –

But they had fun in his van …

Feisty Miss White

When a pretty young lady named White

Said, “I will turn out the light”.

And I said, “then get into bed?”,

She smacked me hard on the head.

Those nurses can get feisty at night!

 

Those nurses they

Terrible Old Bore

When a rude young man named Moore

Said, “you are a terrible old bore!”.

I gave him a smile

And then, with great style,

I kicked Moore out of the door!

Too Much Partying!

When I met a young lady in Soho

Who told me her name it was Flow,

I bought her and Jane

Lots of overpriced fake champagne

And awoke with a bloke in old Soho!

Let Children Learn our Best Verse

A good and interesting article in the Spectator, entitled Let Children Learn our Best Verse, Let children learn our best verse | The Spectator

 

Thoughts of a Middle-Aged Man

In early August

Leaves on the ground

Are blown around.

 

 

Autumn must

Come in with September.

 

 

I remember

Barefoot girls in summertime

And lust

Only half understood.

 

 

In woods

Autumn leaves become dust.

My blood

Still runs hot.

And the graveyard plot

Calls us all.