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Somewhere,somehow, the tap kept dripping . . . 1. Don't stare at your PC monitor screen, Hoping for revelations from all that has been, For the universe as we know it, is too big I regret; To be captured in any old internet! |
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2. Wensleydale Cheese, Grows on Wensleydale trees, In the Wensleydale forest, Where the Woodcutters wheeze, Because, it's not easy chopping trees made of cheese, But the Wensleydale Woodcutters endeavour to please! |
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3. The other day, my thoughts assunder,
I began to ponder a packet of Golden Wonder, Walker's, Smith's, yes that crisp repast; They're gone in a minute, they never last. Discarded and forgotten, not given a second glance, Well, it's time the common crisp was given a chance; For now at last, can be revealed, Secrets so long, plastic sealed! Our story begins far,far from here, Indeed, it was in the southern hemisphere. In the country Ghandi made reknown, Yes, the crisp was the jewel in India's crown! It was here that the great crisp grand daddy, Was munched in a shady dried up wadi, Yes, this was the first, the original one, His name? you must have guessed, Was Poppa Dom! * Since that day, they've grown in stature, Posters and billboards thrust them at you. Brand new flavours, in a list never ending, Encouraging us to keep on spending. No wait! There something wrong with this prawn cocktail crisp, It should be stuck up, and have a lisp! Yet, it's just lying there, and on it's head, Nurse, the stethoscope; My God, it's dead! What ails our crisps? We may never know. Some inherent quirk of the potato. So, just spare a thought, before you begin to munch, For the crisp that died, to make your lunch! * The name has, of course, been corrupted since! (This is not a foot note, it's a crisp note and I could do with a few more crisp notes in my pocket!) |
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