Conquer the Bandits of Love!
Remembrance is a form of rhubarb
You must wear yours with a difference
To mock the fiction of Jane Austen
Under an effete umbrella
Of modesty as false as rumour
Would be as bad as to the maxim
"Go west young man" when east of Peckham
Replying "Yes, you are quite right -
Pocahontas was a native
And weren't the Bee Gees just so fab?"
Such the vapid words of silence
From those without a gift for gab
In the Andes (north of Burma?),
They name some rhubarb every day
In remembrance of John Ruskin,
In their menial gumboots quaking
Saying "You are Ruskin Rhubarb -
Named after the famous critic"
k
sera sera when east of Eden
Grows the horrid thorny spine-bush
Where the infant Hiawatha
Planted once a clump of lilies
Slimy, mournful-looking lilies
That reminded me of thunder,
In the Pennines, south of Watford
Keep the Aspidistra flying!
Never tell the one who told you
That his lie was soon discovered
By the man whose boot-tops glisten
in the Autumn's morning sunlight
Leaking through the stained-glass window
Of the chapel on the island
YAMAMA
UMBULABA
PARAGONG
Roared the witless voices of the thunder
Contributors: | P, (trad), Roland, Apsley, Grayman, fester, Fatty, Anon., Beefy, E Greejius, loaf. |
Poem finished: | 25th March 2001. |