273 – I’m Trying To Find My Eyeball

Poem number 273
I’m Trying To Find My Eyeball
I’m trying to find my eyeball
It fell out, I’m sad to say
I’m trying to find my eyeball
It fell out, and rolled away
I’m trying to find my eyeball,
Groping round upon the mat
I’m trying to find my eyeball
‘Fore it’s eaten by the cat!


274 – Run, Logan!

Poem number 274
Run, Logan!
Run Logan, run Logan, run run run!
Don’t give the Sandmen their fun fun fun!
If your palm blinks, it means you’re gonna die
So run Logan, run Logan, run run run!

276 – The Death Of Lord Fotherington

Poem number 276
The Death Of Lord Fotherington
He went to public school, you know
Then Oxford and The City,
Made a lot of money,
Had a wife quite trim and pretty.
The second house in Yorkshire?
Yes, that’s where he met his death –
Cavorting with his mistress
Well he just… ran out of breath
The doctor couldn’t save him
Though she did her very best –
Poked around inside him,
Stuck a camera in his chest
“Eee lad look at this!” she said
“Tha’s parkin stuck inside!”
He sniffed “How very Northern.”
Then, quite regally, he died.

279 -The 5am Club

Poem number 279
The 5am Club
There’s over an hour ’til the first rays of sun
But for many the new working day has begun
The policemen, the firemen no thoughts for themselves
The drivers, the postmen the folk stacking shelves
The people on buses, their hair still askew
Playing games on their phone just for something to do
The men washing windows with squeegees on poles
The men by the SnackShack with hot bacon rolls
The smell of the bacon, the sound of their talk
The morning assails every sense as I walk
The world is asleep save for us lucky few
Who start before dawn and who do what we do
And the tiredness it brings as the evening arrives
Is tiresome, but worth it to have in our lives
These moments, these memories, vignettes in our head
Such a secret existence, us folk not in bed
The streetlights and bacon the sound of a bus
The dawn hasn’t broken, the world is for us.

282 – Drains

Poem number 282
My drain is blocked
The grate’s submerged
I’ve got a stick
I’m on the verge
Of jabbing it
Down through the murk
I’m betting though
It doesn’t work
I’m betting that
I’ll have to ring
The Water Board
To fix this thing
Ah well, I guess
Next time I’ll think
Before I tip
Fat down the sink.