As I sit down on the bus,
this blustery, dreary, windy eve,
I think to myself that there must
be something I believe…
Something I can write about
morals.. or is it molars?
The pain in my tooth makes me want to shout
but I’m sure that’s not the theme… bollards.
Bollards? Don’t be silly, it’s bollocks!
I’m changing the words just for the rhyme
which isn’t perfect, it’s only some frolics.
I’m doodling and scribbling, wasting your time.
I’ll move back to morals… Eddie
said something about the ending. ‘There was
going to be a moral to this’, said he,
‘but as I am dyslexic, it is
in fact
a marble’
End of my warble.