A Walk in the Rain

Daphne's Dinner Party

2008-07-17T03:36:00.000-07:00

Daphne is only too happy to tell
How her dinner party went perfectly well,
Despite a slight fire while preparing the food.
It failed to affect her convivial mood.

At least it ensured that the veal was well done.
Leonard still panicked and got out his gun.
He shot at the fire, to little effect.
He told her he meant it, and she should have checked

To make sure the veal was undoubtedly dead,
And not just asleep in a cosy sun bed.
The turkey at Christmas had formed a good plan.
When it left the oven it just had a tan.

She thought it was dead, but it was just bluffing.
It ate roast potatoes and some of its stuffing.
The guests didn't mind the few holes in the veal.
Daphne served port at the end of the meal.

Dilly got drunk and she shouted abuse
At Uncle Sean's portrait of Eve, his pet goose.
Ernest proposed to his girlfriend, Yvette,
Who couldn't wait till they'd be parted by death.

Charlie sold watches that fell off of trucks.
He had at least twenty concealed in his tux.
He also sold rocks painted emerald green.
Jeffrey wrote cheques dated twenty-sixteen.

Jilly sang X-rated songs that she heard
From an Icelandic, one-eyed little bird.
The songs concerned heroes and villains and thieves
And actresses dressed in long black gloves and leaves.

Gareth was praying and Humphrey was crying.
Christopher was almost certainly lying
When he told a story about his adventures,
The time he attempted to steal diamond dentures.

He did it to help a poor woman in tears,
Drowning her sorrows in cheap foreign beers.
She'd lost a small fortune. The person to blame
Was a man who possessed much more money than shame.

He sold her a race horse who'd run in the Oaks.
It turned out to be an old donkey who smokes.
Christopher promised to get her cash back
From this mean old man who had lied at the track.

This man often drank at a club for the wealthy.
After a whiskey and soda he felt he
Could do with a rest. He started to tire.
He slept on an old leather chair by the fire.

Christopher entered the club by pretending
To be a rich count who's intent on befriending
The great and the good, those above mediocre.
He'd share a cigar with a talented smoker.

While the man slept, Chris stole his false teeth,
And left there as quickly as his two left feet
Would carry him safely away down the stairs
And over the up-turned card tables and chairs,

Chased by club members, security guards,
A few poker players still holding their cards,
Waitresses, waiters and some kitchen staff,
And a chef who unleashed a maniacal laugh.

They chased him down alleys and over parked cars,
Through theatres, brothels and dimly lit bars.
He lost them all when he assumed the disguise
Of a dancing girl wearing a look of surprise.

It soon became shock but he couldn't refuse
A dance with a gangster he'd seen on the news,
A man who'd been linked with some beatings and killings,
A dentist who practised extracting gold fillings.

Because Chris protested against a brief kiss,
The gangster suspected he's Mister, not Miss.
So Chris had to flee and be chased once again
By twenty-one well-armed and muscular men.

His previous pursuers re-joined the pursuit.
He took off his heels to escape with the loot.
He feared they would catch him. He never could tell
Why three circus clowns came to chase him as well.

He wished he could borrow some lives from street cats.
But his fellow dancers produced baseball bats
And chased off the clowns, the club members and goons.
They gave him his life and a bunch of balloons.

He went to the woman the old man had conned.
He felt like a Santa who looked like James Bond.
He gave her the diamond false teeth and he said
There's no better thing from the bad old man's head.

It took Chris three hours just to finish this tale
Because of digressions and pointless detail.
He wouldn't reveal the false teeth's hiding place
When he was a dancer in bits of black lace.

The room was in silence when he finished speaking,
Apart from some sobs and the sound of tears leaking.
The guests started leaving, with muttered goodbyes.
Lingering longer would not be so wise.

A man was unconscious, but no one had died.
With only one ambulance waiting outside,
Daphne felt sure she could safely declare
That this was the best party she'd thrown all year.

Lucky Charms

2008-07-10T03:08:00.000-07:00

I went on a date with a woman who lacked
Two eyebrows above her blue eyes.
We got on quite well but I struggled to tell
When she was expressing surprise.

She didn't have eyebrows or patience for fools.
She did have four legs and a tail.
She kept them for luck. They stopped her pet cat
From being blown away in a gale.

The rabbit who lost his four legs and his tail
Didn't have luck on his side,
And neither did she when she lost her eyebrows.
When they departed she cried.

Our date was successful. We went out again.
This happened when I was eighteen.
But I don't know what I was eighteen of.
I can't say what I once have been.

A friend of mine used to be seventeen squirrels
When he was just fifteen months old.
As time passed he grew into one human being.
This happens quite often, I'm told.

Animania

2008-07-03T03:13:00.000-07:00

I showed my gun to Porky Pig,
And shot to make him dance a jig.
I blamed Bugs Bunny for a fire.
I tripped Roadrunner with a wire.

I threatened Top Cat with a blade.
I poisoned Daffy Duck and made
Donald cry. I broke his mind.
I kicked Fred Flintstone's fat behind.

I put a tack in Shaggy's shoe.
I filled a bag with Scooby's doo,
And left the bag at Popeye's door.
He threw away the shoes he wore.

My manic smile made Scratchy panic.
I made Itchy watch Titanic.
I glued Tom's paws to his food bowl,
Filled Jerry's house with earth and coal,

Taught Mickey Mouse a naughty word,
Left Tweety Pie a broken bird,
Subjecting him to tough repression.
It's three weeks since my last confession.

Since then I've caused some strife and trouble
When I blackmailed Barney Rubble.
I carried out an idle threat.
I took Sylvester to the vet.

Elmer Fudd's confined to bed.
I dropped an anvil on his head.
I flattened Snoopy with a lorry.
For these and all my sins I'm sorry.

The Best Medicine

2008-06-26T03:55:00.000-07:00

Kevin was sharing a house with two friends
And his brother William, or Willie, who tends
To laugh at a lot of the things that he sees,
From strawberry yoghurt to his uncle's knees.

He laughed at a clown on the run down a street,
Chased by ten puppies who wanted his feet.
Forty-eight hours after seeing this sight
Willie still laughed. Even at night

He laughed in his sleep at the clown in his dreams
While some of his housemates invented grand schemes
To have him deported to El Salvador.
They pictured him waking on some foreign shore.

At times they believed that his laugh would soon cease.
They cherished the prospect of silence and peace.
They no longer wished they were like Helen Keller.
The laughter slowed down like an airplane propeller

After the airplane has ground to a halt,
A time for bad fliers to cheer and exalt.
The housemates were happy as he taxied in,
Till his laughter engine was switched on again.

They asked Mrs. Burt from next door for a plan
To turn Willie into a humourless man,
And thus end the misery that his laughter brought.
She was well known for the speed of her thought.

Her sister could cycle so fast that her feet
Were just a red blur as she sped down the street.
But she often crashed at a wall or a gate,
And Mrs. Burt's schemes met a similar fate.

For Willie she came up with this simple scheme:
The laughter would reach its full-stop in a scream.
Just like with hiccups, the laughter would end
With terror inspired by a brother or friend.

Their job was made easy by Willie's belief
In spirits and ghosts and a cat-like soul thief,
And his groundless fear that his ears would fall off.
He holds them when he has to sneeze or to cough.

He sleeps wearing ear muffs to keep them in place.
His ears feel at home at the sides of his face.
His housemates used slides to create a fake ghost
Who terrified Willie with this mocking boast:

"I'll steal both your ears and I'll wear them at balls."
The scream was so loud that it shook the four walls.
His housemates felt joy at the end of his laugh
Until they began to discover their gaffe.

He couldn't stop screaming and they couldn't sleep.
They tried counting thousands of scared screaming sheep.
They used muffs and ear plugs. They drank many beers.
They wouldn't have minded if they lost their ears.

They needed to get Willie laughing once more,
And wipe out the fearful expression he wore.
They showed him their knees and they said words like 'plop'.
But none of these things brought the scream to a stop.

Mrs. Birdwanger, who moved like a hen,
Would sing like a duck soaked in tonic and gin.
They called her around and they asked her to sing,
But even her song about eggs failed to bring

The crease of a smile to his fear-covered face.
Her voice swiftly switched from soprano to bass,
And brought a brief smile, a slight twitch to his mouth.
The screaming went on and made Kevin run out.

Kevin's complete lack of sleep made him lose
His mental well-being. It loosened some screws.
He thought there were nuts in his milk chocolate head.
Some tasted odd but they'd keep him well fed.

He picked them from out of his ears and his nose.
He squeezed them from spots. He feared that the crows
Would peck out the nuts if they got half a chance,
So he had to harvest the nuts in advance.

This is what made Willie laugh once again.
The scream slowly faded and then a faint grin
Was followed by laughter, a warm aural balm.
It put them to sleep with its feeling of calm.

Colin Needs Excitement

2008-06-24T01:50:00.000-07:00

Colin needs excitement
Or his brain will start to stall.
Meeting other people
Is a bore without a brawl.

Boredom overcomes him
When he hears some people speak.
He can barely bear them
When they talk about their week.

He can hardly hear them
When his ears are full of wax.
He loves to instigate a fight
By stating awkward facts,

Facts like 'You're so stupid
You would lose a game of chess
To a stupid woodland animal's
Unpleasant woodland mess'.

His cousin's birthday party
Was ignited by a fight
That he started with some whiskey
And a laser-guided slight

About his cousin's girlfriend
And her theories on the stars.
She thinks that they control us,
As do aliens on Mars.

The violence soon erupted
And the aliens danced with glee.
Colin was delighted.
Only cowards chose to flee.

He fought a punch drunk punk
Who muttered French and sang a song.
In between the punches
Colin smiled and sang along.

He likes being hit by women
Who would try to kill a fly,
But they'd fail to even injure it
And they would start to cry.

He hates being hit by women
Who would hurt a tall giraffe.
His cousin's girlfriend's hook was good.
His 'sorry' made her laugh.

Every time she punched he saw
A word like 'Pow!' or 'Zap!'.
He told her he was lying down
To take a little nap.

Once he met a woman
Who was so impaired by drink
That she tried to break his head off.
She had somehow come to think

That he's a little plastic man
Upon a wedding cake,
A tiny smiling groom,
A man she'd like to break.

At the time of this misfortune
He was holding hands with Clare,
A woman in a wedding dress,
With petals in her hair.

Flies

2008-06-12T04:32:00.000-07:00

I was walking through the park
On a crooked concrete path
When I came across a duck
Who was following a cat.

They were walking round in circles
In their own peculiar dance,
A sight I found hypnotic
And I slipped into a trance.

When the black cat paused to rest
The duck lay down as well.
How long I had been standing there
I simply couldn't tell.

I only felt confusion.
I didn't have a clue
Why I held a woman's handbag
And what I then should do.

Holding women's handbags
Didn't suit my latest look,
And I feared that I would surely be
Accused of being a crook.

I considered many options
But they all seemed weak or wrong.
I stood there with the handbag
Till a woman came along.

She smiled and said, "You found it!"
I nodded and said 'yes'.
I got the feeling I had helped
A damsel in distress.

She said her bag was stolen
When she dropped her guard to blink.
She practically insisted
She'd repay me with a drink.

The duck and cat were sleeping
When we exited the park.
We ended up conversing
In a pub till after dark.

We arranged to meet again
On the following afternoon.
We went to feed the duck.
Beneath a summer moon

We walked around in circles
As we talked for many hours.
Those lazy days seemed charmed.
I brought her luck and flowers.

She gave me gifts as well,
Like a plastic four-leaf clover.
When she bought a Venus fly trap
I could tell those days were over.

The future we'd envisioned
As a couple wouldn't be.
If she can't accept my flies
Then she's not the one for me.

Talking to Myself

2008-06-05T03:14:00.000-07:00

When I'm all alone
I tell myself my theories
On why the old folk moan
In a crumbling pub called Cleary's,

And why the young folk fight
In the supermarket car park,
Why bite marks on bark might
Be a tree's peculiar birth mark,

Or why dead flies and bees
Seem to end up on the shelf.
I always feel at ease
When I'm talking to myself.

It's like reading from a text
That I've read ten times before.
I know what's coming next.
Dance, robot. Dance.

I spend some time rehearsing
Meeting people that I know,
But when we are conversing
I can't tell where this will go.

They'll talk about their feelings
And their failings and their god,
And things they wrote on ceilings
After smoking something odd.

Some say to God above
They would dearly love to be Spock.
Since I fell in love
My mind has been ha! peacock.

I met her yesterday.
Her presence made me sweat.
I was terrified I'd say
Something I would soon regret,

A line to make her glare.
I was right to feel this dread.
When I said I liked her hair
She said, "No, that's my head."

Rick's Tuba

2008-05-29T07:20:00.000-07:00

Rick tried to learn the electric guitar.
The sound made his sister take up the crowbar.
He took up the tuba because he liked brass.
He'd use it to cover the sounds from his ass.

His donkey, that is. A pet they called Slade,
Who never got tired of the noises he made.
When Rick played the tuba it frightened the donkey.
It frightened the neighbours when played in the wrong key.

But sadly for Rick it went slightly wrong.
His tuba inhaled him when playing a song.
He struggled for weeks but he couldn't get out.
He sighed and it sounded as loud as a shout.

He learned to accept his sad fate and he found
That people were thrilled with his voice's new sound.
One night he got drunk with his best friend, who tried
To play this great tuba with Rick still inside.

They both said they liked it. They tried it again
They woke at half-nine and regretted it then.
They wished they'd seen clearer in their drunken haze.
They tried to avoid all eye-contact for days.

I'm Being Followed By An Ostrich, Or So The Papers Say

2008-05-23T03:21:00.000-07:00

I'm being followed by an ostrich,
Or so the papers say,
But all the world's a stage
And life is just a play

And the press re-write the story
Just to make it more exciting.
They dramatise the boring bits
And add in fires and fighting.

I don't believe there really is
An ostrich right behind me.
I can't see how an animal
Would have the skills to find me.

Although it would explain
What's been knocking on my head.
If I thought it was an ostrich
I would certainly have fled.

I have a better theory
To explain the constant knocking,
A theory that is neither
Too sensational nor shocking.

I've been working as a lumberjack.
I love to be outdoors,
Even in the bitter cold
And when it rains or pours.

I built a wooden hut
In the woods so I could stay
And sleep there every night
And work a long hard day.

I had an old accordion
That I no longer needed.
I requested a shop keeper
To display an ad, and she did.

The ad described the instrument
In intricate detail.
It outlined all the selling points
And said it was on sale

For only twenty euros.
The ad also outlined
Directions to my dwelling
So it's not too hard to find.

My theory is as follows:
A blind man came to buy
The accordion for sale.
He would have wondered why

After following the directions
He could not locate the place
Where I'd built my wooden hut
And established my own base.

I had to move the hut.
It was in a hedgehog's path.
I'd wake up to the sound
Of my greyhound barking at

The hedgehog who would stop
And the barking wouldn't cease
Till I took the dog away.
I needed rest and peace.

But the blind man wouldn't know
Why my dwelling disappeared.
He'd try to solve the mystery.
I'm sure he would have feared

That some unruly teenagers
Put roller-skates beneath
The corners of my hut.
Instead of their own feet

They've been putting the old roller-skates
Beneath some garden sheds,
The phone booth, tumble dryers,
Antique furniture and beds,

And they've pushed these things down hills.
Some crashed into a tree.
The blind man would have thought
That they played this trick on me.

He'd go back to his house
Where the accordion cupboard's bare.
While walking down a hill,
Taking in the country air,

He'd get the smell of timber
That has recently been cut.
He'd naturally assume
That the smell comes from my hut

As it slowly rolls away.
He is simply not aware
That I always smell of timber.
There is sawdust in my hair.

Reliance on a sense of smell
Would lead to this confusion.
One of its results
Is the unfortunate illusion

That my head is my front door.
With this I can explain
Why he's knocking on my head.
I've asked him to refrain

From continually knocking,
But he must be deaf as well.
I only wish he'd try to find
A knocker or doorbell.

His sense of touch is lacking
If he thinks my head is wood,
And he can't see or hear
But his sense of smell is good.

There's only one slight flaw:
If it's true he cannot see,
How did he read the ad
And then make his way to me?

Someone could have told him,
Knowing he was seeking
A second-hand accordion.
They'd overheard him speaking

Of his love for this fine instrument,
And how he'd like another.
Accordions were his children
And he made a loving mother.

It's not all that unlikely
That a man with such odd views
Would be profoundly deaf
Or be partial to strong booze.

I could just turn around
And put my theory to the test.
I could also run away
And give my head some rest,

But this would be surrendering.
The press would win again.
Their sensational stories
Should be aired inside a bin.

Last week they said they'd found a man
Who claimed to have three legs,
But he was just some tin foil,
Plastic buttons and clothes pegs.

Imaginary Friends

2008-05-15T03:49:00.000-07:00

Roger and Annette
Bought a crumbling manor house,
With grounds ideal for gardening
And shooting ducks or grouse.

Annette prefers encountering
The garden's sweet delights,
With imaginary friends
Who would rather shots and fights.

They love to rant all day.
The glass is always full.
But it's full of boiling anger
That would frighten any bull.

They hate all other people
And they really hate themselves
For being just as fictional
As leprechauns or elves.

They make fun of her real friends
And the woman down the road
Who'd lose a beauty contest
With an overweight dead toad.

They tell her that young people
Are as useless as small toes,
As vacant as a vacuum
And as beautiful as crows.

Life, they say, is pointless,
But it's rarely ever painless.
A brain is like an open wound
Within a world that's brainless.

It's a constant source of pain
To be smarter than your peers.
When hit by life's absurdities
Most people just say 'cheers'.

All remaining brain cells
Will be lost when drowned in drink.
They're good at saying 'cheers'
But can't remember how to think.

Stupidities, absurdities
And all of life's iniquities
Make perfect sense to them.
The stupid, bland ubiquities

Pervading modern culture
Means that mannequins will thrive.
An age made for clothes horses
Who can buy and feel alive,

Despite being barely sentient.
They don't know who they are,
Defining their persona
With a mobile phone and car.

The friends say she's like this,
A mannequin who smiles,
A feeble human hidden
Under many layers of styles,

Like layers of paint on walls
In the rooms they wander through.
She'd be a cryptic crossword
But she doesn't have a clue.

She whistles and she sings
And she dances in the sun.
Despite the constant ranting
She's intent on having fun.

She rarely pays attention
To these venomous tirades,
But sometimes in the evening
As the golden daylight fades

Her imaginary friends
Will start fighting with the ghosts
Who've been around for centuries
And see themselves as hosts,

And she will intervene
To restore a fragile truce.
Roger starts to wonder
If a screw or two is loose.

To say the house's influence
Is evil needs some proof,
But many past inhabitants
Went mad beneath this roof.

His very own imaginary
Friend is Sigmund Freud,
Who's always smartly dressed,
Often as a bride.

Roger has consulted him
About his wife's companions.
He thinks there are some tourists
Looking round her mental canyons,

But Freud says not to worry.
"She's exceptionally sane.
There's nothing wrong with tourists
Or with water on the brain.

"And it's okay to see me
In my splendid wedding gown.
The Freudian explanation is
You hate the colour brown."

Diane is in Love

2008-05-08T02:27:00.000-07:00

The sun is in the sky.
The grass is in the ground.
The mountain tops are high
And the world, they say, is round.

A dog walks round in circles
Till he finds a place to sleep.
Traffic, stress and work ills
Are all buried ten feet deep.

Amanda's hair is blond
And the dress she wears is white.
She says she's very fond
Of puppies, fish and night.

There's a twinkle in her eye
And a sparkle in her smile.
To shout or swear or lie
Simply wouldn't suit her style.

Amanda's on a hill
When she sees her friend Diane.
They both have time to kill.
Amanda forms a plan

To go to where Diane is
To see if she has news,
And ask her how her gran is,
And show off her new shoes.

Diane's news is this:
She's found true love again.
She's taken love's sweet bliss
Out of her recycle bin.

The man she loves is Freddie.
Right now he'd be in bed.
He often seems unsteady
On his feet and in his head.

But when he's fully sober
He can dance like Fred Astaire.
He promised he would show her
How to waltz with style and flair.

When he's at his local
He has little use for legs.
Some friendly legless folk'll
Empty two or three beer kegs.

His company is welcome,
And he'll always buy his round.
He's funny and he's seldom
Short of tales that will astound.

Her parents think she's crazy
To consider life with Fred.
They say he's rude and lazy
And he smells of something dead.

They'd rather see her choosing
A fine young man called Stan.
You'll never catch him boozing
And he dearly loves Diane.

He says she's like a flower
And he's sure that heaven sent it.
He's proud of his brain power
And the horse bra he invented.

She has to make a choice
But she can't make up her mind.
She could take her heart's advice
And accept that love is blind.

Or else she could take heed
Of her head's repeated pleas.
It says there is a need
To ignore her weakened knees.

Amanda says the future
Can be seen in clouds above.
These visions may not suit your
Deepest-held beliefs in love.

The clouds are better guides
Than the tea leaves or the stars.
You can make out grooms and brides
Or thieves behind steel bars.

They look up at the sky
Where the clouds are roaming free.
A white cloud passes by
And its shape is plain to see.

It's a horse who's wearing blinkers
And a bra, though lacking breasts.
Diane won't need great thinkers
To explain what this suggests.

But Amanda disagrees.
She thinks they should keep looking.
They face a gentle breeze,
Watching clouds that fate is cooking.

In one great cloud they see
A semi-conscious man.
Their faces light with glee.
"It's Freddie!" says Diane.

If a tree falls in the woods...

2008-05-01T03:19:00.000-07:00

While walking in a forest
On an autumn afternoon
A tree fell down on me
As I sang a carefree tune.

I would have made my exit,
But no one was around.
I didn't hear it falling
Coz it didn't make a sound.

I was trapped beneath the tree.
I was well-and-truly stuck.
I tried creating F words
That soon terminate in 'uck'.

But these were also silent.
No one heard me shout.
I gave it all my lung-power
But still nothing would come out.

I couldn't free my right arm.
I had to wait for hours
Before I saw some people
Out collecting forest flowers.

They saw me on the ground
But they couldn't understand
That I wasn't really waving.
I was clapping with one hand.

The Scrap Yard

2008-04-24T02:58:00.000-07:00

Dermot and Thomas spent long summer days
In search of scrap metal and wires,
Copper coal scuttles, brass kettles and cups,
Bits of car engines and tyres.

This haven for junk was a heaven for them.
Dermot's Dad owned the scrap yard.
It seemed like The Ritz for the rats, who were pets.
A one-eyed Jack Russell kept guard.

They made new machines from the old junk they found.
Cars were stripped down and left bare.
Their scrap metal clothes could be used to make wings
On either side of a wheelchair.

They once made a robot on wheelbarrow wheels.
A parrot cage served as its skull.
The cage made brain surgery easy as pie,
But it once trapped a passing seagull.

They put an old filofax into the cage.
They wrote robot thoughts on the cards,
Like 'Put the tin cans in the recycle bin',
Or 'Use the death ray on the guards'.

They often remained at the scrap yard all day,
Building machines until night.
None of these worked, but they didn't mind,
As long as their fancy took flight.

One day they opened the boot of a car.
They found a black briefcase inside.
They opened the lock with a hammer and chisel.
Their mouths and their eyes opened wide.

This black leather briefcase was full of hard cash,
A windfall where dangers may lurk.
But they only thought about spending this money
To make sure their robot would work.

They bought a small engine to power its three wheels.
It moved just as quick in reverse.
They also got hydraulic pumps for its arms.
They got it to race with a hearse.

They used a new radio control to command
The robot to wave as it eased
Past the black hearse with the newly deceased
Who was free to respond as he pleased.

One morning the bright summer sun rose above
The mountain of junk and scrap metal.
Dermot removed a car door lost to rust,
As brittle as any dried petal.

A shadow engulfed him. When he turned around
He saw a tall man with a gun.
Dermot's left leg became frozen in fear.
His right leg just wanted to run.

The man with the gun said, "You know why I'm here.
What have you done with the money?"
Dermot prepared his response in advance.
He dearly hoped this would sound funny.

But just before Dermot began his response,
Fearing the end would be nigh,
The robot appeared and advanced on the man.
The card in its skull said 'Destroy!'.

Thomas controlled it from inside the shed.
It started to make a strange sound.
They saw some black smoke right before it exploded.
Their visitor dived to the ground.

A few seconds later he stood up again.
He ran while the robot still burned.
He never looked back as he ran to the gate,
And since then he's never returned.

They rescued the brain and they re-built their robot.
This time they gave it four feet.
Thomas said, "I'm glad it didn't explode
While racing the hearse on the street."

Hugh and Jones

2008-04-17T03:04:00.000-07:00

Hugh will play an old guitar
In city streets or in a bar.
He sings his songs about James Dean
(The name he gave to his last bean)

And cricket bats who talk in Dutch,
Conversing with a wooden crutch,
And aliens who look like ducks,
Instead of quacks they talk in clucks.

His favourite song relates the tale
Of searching for the holy grail
With his friend, a man called Jones
Who's always talking to his bones,

Warning them against escape,
Eloping underneath a cape
With a female skeleton
He met while in the peloton

Of a bike race all round France
For skeletons who don't need pants.
The winners won't get many hugs
But people know they don't use drugs.

Hugh and Jones set off to claim
The holy grail and save a dame.
They just assumed they'd somehow find
A damsel in a tricky bind.

With wooden swords and plastic spoons
They showed no fear to thugs or goons.
Jones had bought an ancient map
From a most peculiar chap

Who wore his trousers inside out
To tempt and yet instil some doubt
In people prone to picking pockets.
Some will leave receipts or dockets.

His bulging pockets catch their eyes.
To reach the pot of gold they prize
They'd have to put a hand inside
His cardboard belt. No one's tried.

He never fears the thieves in hoods,
But sometimes when he's buying goods
He has to feel around to find
His coins and when he's feeling kind

He'll leave a tip and get a smile.
Shop assistants like his style.
But when he takes the wrong thing out
They stare in shock and scream and shout.

His back pocket held the map.
Jones kept it beneath his cap
After paying twenty quid.
Twenty-five was his first bid.

On the map a red line showed
The only route, the sacred road
To follow if you seek the grail.
It starts at 'Go' and goes through 'Jail'.

They walked past many red hotels.
The walls concealed eternal hells.
The names in flashing neon light
Promised heaven every night.

Should customers decide to stay
And reach inside their pants to pay,
If it looks like they enjoy it
They may well be compelled to buy it.

For this they'd face an extra fee.
Nothing ever comes for free.
As night time came around once more
Hugh and Jones felt tired and sore.

They found a place to rest their heads.
It lacked a light bulb, chair and beds.
It had a hole, an eerie sound
And mattresses upon the ground.

Through the sheets they saw the springs
And odd shapes classified as 'things'.
Ignore them when they start to creep.
Just hope they die or fall asleep.

Hugh woke up at half past three
When Jones's bones were trying to flee.
The skeleton was nearly at
The door when he put on a hat.

Hugh picked up a sword and said,
"I think you should return to bed."
The skeleton halted in mid-stride.
He paused a while. It seemed he sighed.

He put the hat back on the ground,
And with a sombre rattling sound
He trudged towards the mattress where
Jones was sleeping unaware

He'd lost his inner scaffolding.
His skeleton's sad laugh will ring
In dreams of doing magic tricks
Like pulling rabbits out of bricks.

Their breakfast seemed to brim with life.
The hotel staff brought further strife.
The waiter stared when Jonsie said
That he preferred his breakfast dead.

Hugh and Jones were chased away.
Later on this summer day
The map led them down country lanes
Where sights and sounds massaged their brains.

If they were cats they'd smell the cream.
They found a field beside a stream.
They thought the grail was underneath
The grassy ground beneath their feet.

They dug for hours but sadly failed
To be enriched, enhanced, engrailed.
All they found were coins and bones.
They looked for signs in rocks and stones.

They listened to their feathered friends.
They even lifted up the ends
Of all the rainbows that they found,
But all they saw was gold and ground.

They met a woman dressed in white
Who told them all about her plight.
Her dog had chased a cat away.
She hadn't seen him since midday.

Hugh and Jones said they would help.
Jones could hear a bark or yelp
From a dog three miles away,
And translate what they're trying to say.

He listened very carefully
He heard a poodle bark a plea
To be allowed to roll around
In a pig sty's muddy ground.

Amongst the sounds of bees and birds
He heard a dog bark out these words:
"I thought we'd meet and have a chat.
I will not kill you, Mister Cat."

By then the dog was nearly hoarse.
They walked towards the barking's source.
A mile away they found the dog
Beneath a tree beside a bog.

Each high-pitched bark would need a bleep.
That vexing cat was now asleep.
But when he saw his owner he
Wagged his tail and barked in glee.

And she was clearly overjoyed.
When her tears of joy had dried
She asked them if they'd like some food
And wine to light the evening mood.

She took them to her house and made
A meal for which they would have paid
A pot of gold to get in places
Patronised by famous faces.

They felt at last they'd found their prize.
An inner glow lit up their eyes.
The grail had followed them by stealth
And caught them in the peace they felt.

They'd helped a damsel fight distress,
Clearing up her doggie's mess.
Hugh insists that all this happened,
Though he accepts that it's a crap End.

Bill's Windfall

2008-04-10T02:50:00.000-07:00

He bet on a horse called Burlington Bunny.
He cheered the horse home and then when he won he
Went with his winnings to see his friend Jack
And told him the tale of his luck at the track.

They wondered and planned how to play this good hand,
To spend something short of a third of a grand.
If someone would lend them a few hundred more
They'd use all this money to hire the town whore

And she could start work on re-wiring Bill's house.
A water pipe electrocuted a mouse.
For ten years before she began her new job
She was a good electrician called Bob.

Or they could invest the cash in stocks and shares.
A company called 'Goldilocks and Three Bears'
Make a great porridge that Jack loves to eat.
It's only too hot when it spills on his feet.

They went to the pub and they put some more thought
Into the money and what should be bought.
Bill told the bar man about his wise bet.
The horse looked as if he was powered by a jet,

But it might just have been that the food he consumes,
The high-fibre meals brought in buckets by grooms,
Causes the current of wind through his tail.
On calm wind-less days he could fill a yacht's sail.

A man at the bar overheard Bill's account
From placing the bet to the jockey's dismount.
The man said, "It's obvious you're not a beginner.
You've got a real talent for spotting a winner.

"I'll show you a greyhound who outruns the wind,
And unlike the breeze he can round any bend.
I'll sell you this greyhound for three-hundred euros.
He's won all his races. His name is The Blue Rose."

Bill was intrigued by this generous offer.
He'd happily empty his newly-filled coffer
To buy such a greyhound and take him to races,
And wear handmade top hats and buy champagne cases.

The man said he'd show Bill and Jack this great dog
Who'd outrun his rivals when out for a jog.
They went to a farm just a few miles away.
As night time approached to extinguish the day

They saw The Blue Rose in the last of the sun.
Bill was surprised by how fast he could run.
He said, "This fine dog has one hell of a dash,
So why would you sell him for such little cash?"

The man said, "My wife bought a poodle last week.
Since the weekend she's refusing to speak.
My wife, not the dog. She won't talk to me,
But looks from her eyes can still sting like a bee.

"The Blue Rose attacked her new poodle called Willow.
He might have thought it was a sentient pillow.
He likes tearing cushions and pillows apart.
In this one he would have located a heart.

"In selling the greyhound I had little choice.
She made her demand in the guise of advice."
Bill said he'd buy The Blue Rose without thinking.
They settled the deal and got back to their drinking.

About a week later, with some help from Jack,
Bill took the greyhound to run at the track.
But somehow he seemed to be lacking in pace.
He stayed in the traps till the end of the race.

A bookie told Bill all about The Blue Rose,
Explaining the reason his new greyhound froze.
This dog was so quick that he once caught the hare.
Unlike owls and cats they don't make a nice pair.

The dog tried to kill this mechanical quarry,
An action for which he was soon to be sorry.
An electric shock made him run from the track,
And now he's afraid of the hare who fought back.

Bill still had hopes for his greyhound's career.
He'd run fast if he could get over his fear.
Bill made a hare with some string and a stick,
And an old teddy bear on which he'd once been sick.

The Blue Rose would tremble whenever he saw it,
Refusing to sniff it or bite it or paw it.
But gradually he became used to this creature
Who'd show no desire to shock you or eat your

Breakfast or dinner or many dog biscuits.
As time passed the greyhound was willing to risk its
Personal safety by sniffing the hare.
He liked the strong scent from the old teddy bear.

A glittering career for The Blue Rose still beckoned
But all this good work was undone in a second.
The dog couldn't know of the dangers that lurk
Because of the wires in Bill's house that need work.

The dog got a shock from a shelf and he fled.
From the fake hare the dog cowered in dread.
Bill kept his greyhound, who makes a good pet.
To mice and to pillows he brings a quick death.

The Long Weekend

2008-04-03T03:16:00.000-07:00

Andrew and Mabel were glad to leave home
And see the vast ocean beneath a blue dome.
They stayed in a guesthouse with views of the bay
And beautiful sunsets to finish the day.

They spent the weekend taking in the sea air,
Listening to seagulls and whistling 'La Mer',
Exploring the coastline on well-trodden paths,
And well-hidden arbours that hid sleeping cats.

In small seafront restaurants that served fresh seafood
They both felt at ease in the calm, relaxed mood.
They visited pubs for the view of the sea,
And a quick drink or two while they're there, maybe three.

In one of those pubs on a quiet afternoon
They looked at a single red birthday balloon
That seemed out of place in the maritime theme,
And would raise some questions if this were a dream.

A steam ship's barometer hung on the wall.
A glass case protected an old canon ball.
Fishing nets, rope, oars and flags from afar
Hung from a beam at the back of the bar.

The brass bell above the front door rang again.
A man stepped inside and he ordered a gin.
He walked with a limp as he went to a table.
This man started talking to Andrew and Mabel.

He said he had travelled across the great oceans
And felt the tumultuous wave of emotions
That seem to be stirred by a wild storm at sea.
The lightning highlighted a reason to be.

Thoughts of their grave gave a reason to live,
The one welcome gift The Grim Reaper can give.
He dreamt of becoming a Captain to gain
The heart of a lady, and part of her brain.

Her parents would never allow her to marry
A run-of-the-mill lowly seaman called Larry.
But he was determined to win their respect.
They looked up to leaders like Captains -- he checked.

He sighed and he said, "We're just play-things for gods.
They look down and see us as good lightning rods.
Just when your heart is a stove for love's fire it's
Right at this time you'll get captured by pirates.

"I spent the next year and a half in slave labour.
I missed having walls between me and my neighbour.
The bedroom held twenty. We didn't have beds,
Just Cantonese phonebooks to rest weary heads.

"I made my escape when I fought off a guard.
I left him bewildered and feathered and tarred.
My long journey home took a year to complete.
My shoes had worn down to the soles of my feet.

"With the frying pan gone, the fire of despair
Was waiting for me in the long golden hair
Of the woman I loved as she remained wrapped in
The muscular arms of a statuesque Captain.

"They'd just been married. I hurried away.
I set sail again on the very next day.
I didn't set foot in this place for five years.
I fought thieves and pirates and demons and fears.

"But when I returned a faint glimmer of hope
Lit mental scenes of the day I'd elope
With my true love. Her husband was dead,
Killed in a fight in a bar as he fled.

"I couldn't convince her to leave town with me.
She needed the blessing of her family.
They'd turned against sailors. Their son-in-law's death
Had given him manners that he'd never get

"From spending nights drinking with dangerous men
And women who'd bite off the head of a hen
As part of a well-known seduction technique.
They'd swallow the eyes but they'd spit out the beak.

"He became known as a great womaniser,
Which angered his wife. He came to despise her.
She hated him. She struggled to hide
The joy that she felt when she heard that he'd died.

"This is why I settled down on dry land.
I set up a factory where seafood was canned.
I built up my business and as the years passed
I earned the respect of her parents at last.

"I couldn't help thinking the future looked bright,
But sadly my factory burnt down one June night.
It wasn't insured, a fact that was noted
During her family's meeting. They voted

"To show their support for a man known as Dean
Who'd obviously failed to inherit the gene
That stops people falling in holes or down stairs
Or using a stick to disturb sleeping bears.

"But he would inherit his family's wealth.
Their fortune remained in good hands and good health.
Her family twisted her arm for so long
They made her head do what her heart knew was wrong.

"She married this man. I left here once more.
My home was the sea and a strange foreign shore.
Be wary of creatures who bite but don't bark.
I lost my left leg to the jaws of a shark.

"And so I came home. My true love I met.
Her husband was dead so there's hope for us yet.
He died when he fell from a roof where he'd been
To see if the raindrops would wash his suit clean.

"We're both middle-aged and I'm penniless, but
I'm trying to get back on my feet, or my foot.
I'll start my own business, and learn from the past,
And then I will marry my true love at last."

Mabel said this was a beautiful tale.
Andrew did not know sign language or Braille,
But he could read hints. He thought he could tell
That she meant 'Let's help him get out of his hell'.

He gave Larry two-hundred euros in cash
And straightaway thought that he'd done something rash.
Larry was shocked, and then filled with joy.
He seemed to be doing his best not to cry.

He said, "This investment will put me on track.
When you return you'll get twice as much back."
He shook Andrew's hand and he finished his drink.
He left with a smile and a nod and a wink.

Mabel said, "What you just did was so kind,
But I think you've been conned by a criminal mind.
The story he told was exactly the same
As the plot of a film. I've forgotten its name."

They looked out the window and saw Larry run.
He clearly was pleased with the job he had done.
Sometimes he skipped. The limping had gone.
He couldn't believe the success of his con.

Jilly's Puppets

2008-03-27T04:26:00.000-07:00

She looks at her hands for long stretches of time.
They keep her amused and content.
She pays little heed to the clock's hourly chime.
It's something to do during Lent.

They're like naked puppets, unable to hide,
There to be spied on by others,
A wedding night film of a groom and a bride
That's seen by their fathers and mothers.

She thinks that the future is there in a palm
Because it will show you the past,
Revealing a life of immense peace and calm,
Or a life of suspense lived too fast.

And she thinks the past is a trustworthy guide
To show what the future will hold.
It's nearly as sure as the change of the tide.
In past acts the future is told.

She made two glove puppets to clothe her bare hands,
Her right hand resplendent in white,
A grand bridal gown. The left understands
That she always favours the right.

The left hand's the groom. Jilly's right-handed.
Both hands are close to her heart.
Without the left groom the right bride would feel stranded.
They're rarely an arm's length apart.

If past acts can outline her future life's course,
Her boyfriend's inaction's a worry.
He can be silent for hours till he's hoarse.
To marry her he's in no hurry.

For ten years she's waited for him to propose.
On sporting fields he'll shout and curse.
He's like a great river when flood water flows.
With her he's a glacier or worse.

She needs to take matters into her hands.
She uses the bride and groom puppets.
The groom puppet looks quite content as it stands
Despite the fact her hand is up its

Newly-washed trousers. It's dressed to the nines.
The puppets act out a short play
In front of her boyfriend. He should see the signs
And ask the big question today.

The groom asks the bride if she'll do him the honour
Of taking his hand in marriage.
Without her he'd wither. He'd soon be a gonner.
He'll be a strong horse for her carriage.

The bride says she will and the two puppets kiss.
Jilly expresses her joy.
She says that their love will create wedded bliss
And a glove puppet girl or a boy.

Her boyfriend is briefly dumbfounded by that.
He pauses before he says this:
"Can my brother Anthony borrow your cat?"
Her answer won't trigger a kiss.

Her right hand is desperate to injure his head.
She tries very hard to restrain it.
She lets it attack the poor left hand instead.
Her boyfriend thinks he can explain it.

He thinks that she's ruling the cat idea out.
His question has just fallen flat.
It's bad for his brother, of this there's no doubt,
But it's certainly good for the cat.

The Egg Cup

2008-03-20T04:01:00.000-07:00

To Derek it seemed much too quiet in the park.
Even the dogs were refusing to bark.
He walked quickly on through the shadows of trees.
The gaze of the crows and the sound of the breeze

Added a sense of unease to the place
And painted a faint trace of fear on his face.
He wondered how long this spring day would stay dry.
The clouds were clowning around in the sky,

Chasing each other like dogs without leads
Who run through suburban estates, where their deeds
Are often observed and recorded in song
By bedroom-bound teens who will secretly long

To run with the dogs as they chase diamond thieves,
With helpful advice from a butler called Jeeves.
The clouds found a suitable land for their rain,
Like dogs finding lamp posts, a massive Great Dane

Of a cloud brought a downpour that made people hide.
They pulled up their hoods or sought shelter inside.
Derek went into an old antiques shop
And brought some rain water. A bucket and mop

Were needed to clear up the pool on the floor,
On a bare patch of carpet inside the front door.
This dark shop was full of antiques and old junk.
An ungainly bull or an off-balance drunk

Couldn't help breaking old tea cups and saucers
And fine china plates with minute scenes from Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales, or from Shakespeare's Macbeth,
Or colourful scenes that depict the black death.

A stuffed bird's glass eye cast a sorrowful gaze
Over the shop and its intricate maze
Of paths between cabinets, sideboards and tables,
Owned by eye-witnesses to Aesop's fables.

Prints, maps and paintings adorned the shop's walls,
Portraits that once hung in vast stately halls.
For Derek the shop seemed more like a museum.
He wondered if some of these objects could see him.

Each time he looked at the portraits the eyes
Were staring at him. To his surprise
He saw two real eyes in the dark, like two stars.
They stunned him like headlights of oncoming cars

On poor helpless rabbits on roads late at night.
A woman emerged from the dark to the light.
She looked about eighty. She smiled and said, "Welcome."
She asked if he'd like to see teapots from Belgium.

Before he could answer she took him to see
The Belgian teapots and a skeleton key,
A stuffed Persian cat and an owl that were owned
By a woman who had been convinced she had cloned

Her favourite pet cat and a mouse it had caught,
But as it eventually transpired, she had not.
Derek was shown many vases and paintings.
He listened to her as she tried to explain things

About what to look for in buying antiques.
Cracks will de-value a vase and cause leaks.
She showed him a small silver egg cup and said,
"The owner of this used to take it to bed.

"He kept the egg cup in his pocket by day.
Close to his heart it was destined to stay.
It brought him good luck till the day that he died.
His sad sudden death came about when he tried

"To re-wire a doorbell to make the sound louder.
His ill-judged experiment involved some gunpowder.
For decades before his spectacular death
He wasn't familiar with losing a bet,

"And he became very successful with women.
They used to think he was as sour as a lemon.
When he had the egg cup they saw he had class,
Like a slice of lemon with ice in a glass."

He wanted to leave so he said he would buy
The old silver egg cup. This brought her great joy.
He paid twenty euros. She told him he'd made
A well-informed purchase -- he's sharp as a blade.

When he left the shop, the rain clouds had cleared.
The clouds in the sky were like Santa's white beard,
Or poodles who raced right across the blue sky.
Santa could bet on the outcome up high.

Derek thought he might just get his cash back.
The egg cup's good luck could be tried at the track.
He bet on a dog who was fifty-to-one,
Who stared at spectators when they shouted 'Run!'.

He gave the egg cup to his sister, who thought
That this was the best birthday present he'd bought.
She was intrigued by this silver antique.
She sold it for ten-thousand euros last week.

Peter and Michelle

2008-03-13T05:08:00.000-07:00

They met by the sea. They looked at their hands.
They whistled a tune and exchanged wedding bands.
They lived in a house with a mouse and a cat.
She wore the trousers. He wore a hat.

She managed to make him wear trousers as well.
She caused a distraction each time they fell.
Sometimes she sang and sometimes she danced.
No one would notice that he'd been de-pantsed

When she sang her song about cheating at tennis,
Abusing the umpire and blaming the Guinness.
He sings in a choir. He has a deep voice.
He frequently gives people goose bumps and lice.

He is a hopeless romantic at heart.
He once took a week to construct a pie chart.
It shows the importance of things in his life.
The biggest slice of the pie is his wife.

The next biggest slice is his interest in birds.
His wife's slice is fractionally short of two thirds,
And birds are one eighth. Swearing's a tenth,
But this slice is always removed during Lent.

He tries not to swear, but sometimes he'll fail.
He'll try to suppress it or write it in Braille.
There are occasions when he can't keep in
His favourite swear words. His bad language bin

Is emptied at somebody's feet and it stinks.
Michelle remains as unmoved as the Sphinx.
She won't shout or swear. She'll always stay calm.
Her warm, gentle smile will provide a good balm

To ease any anger. She radiates peace.
She can turn fights into light scenes from Grease.
When gangs face each other, exuding pure venom,
Clad in black leather and hair gel and denim,

Michelle arrives and she stands in between,
And they start their singing and dancing routine.
She never loses her temper and swears,
Or even expresses her anger in glares.

She smiled with good grace when an ex boyfriend said
That somehow or other he'd woken in bed
With a good-looking woman he'd met in a bar,
But she put an incontinent dog in his car.

Dave

2008-03-06T03:02:00.000-08:00

Dave is proud of his bronze tan,
His golden hair and his silver van.
It carries him from place to place.
He keeps it cleaner than his face.

His chat-up lines make women weak,
So much so they cannot speak,
But they can puke. Dave says 'cheers'.
Their eyes can leak a lot of tears

That leave mascara stains on cheeks.
If they had stayed awake for weeks
They couldn't look as bad as this.
They feel the opposite of bliss.

Instinct helps them find the bar.
They couldn't tell you where they are.
They only know they hate this place.
With lipstick smeared across their face,

This completes the sad clown look.
Their plans to write a childrens' book
Start to seem like pointless dreams.
All ambitions, plans and schemes

Appear as just a waste of time.
They'll always be a clown or mime,
Acting out life's main events
Within the confines of a fence,

A fence that only they can see.
They'll never feel remotely free.
Their eyes are pools of deep despair.
They'll find a biscuit in their hair.

The more Dave talks, the more they cry.
Their well of tears will not run dry.
Their face illuminates their plight,
And Dave thinks 'It's my lucky night'.

I Robbed a Bank

2008-02-28T03:22:00.000-08:00

I wore a plastic mask
When I undertook this task.
I called myself Hank
When I robbed a bank.

If I'm being honest,
And recently I promised
To give up telling lies,
Removing truth's disguise,

I wore the mask as Hank
But I really rubbed a bank,
A piggy bank, a plastic one.
I didn't need to use a gun.

I rubbed it just to see
If a genie would grant me
Three wishes I could use
On women, cars and booze.

If I'm being honest,
That's not the truth, as promised.
It was a pig.

The Race

2008-02-21T03:05:00.000-08:00

Kevin drinks stout
While the pub's singers shout.
His friends sing along
To the fifty-verse song.
The pub is the place
They consider their base.
It's where they met Batman
Who's currently Flatman.
He's under the table,
Undressed and unable
To utter a word
That's clear and unslurred.
That's where they drank him
And now they can't thank him
For killing the villain
Who sang like Bob Dylan.
The songs that he sang
By Kool and the Gang
And Barbara Streisand
Sounded like noise and
A sense of despair
Polluted the air
Till Batman arrived
And righteousness thrived.
The villain was killed
And stomachs were filled
And emptied soon after.
The air filled with laughter.
The floor filled with puddles,
Emotional muddles,
And then floods of tears
That cried out for more beers.
Strong superheroes
And villains all fear those
Emotional gales
When typical males
Can lose self-control
And bare more than their soul.

He undressed himself,
They hasten to add.
He cried when he spoke
About pleasing his Dad.

He says he's unable
To drink any more.
He seems to be happy
Enough on the floor.

They drink tequila,
Unable to feel a
Faint trace of remorse
For the poor race horse
They backed in the second,
And victory beckoned.
But he fell at the third.
He said a horse F word.
These manners don't suit him.
The vet tried to shoot him.
The gun shot was frightening.
The horse ran like lightning.
Kevin and co
Then decided to go.
Six hours have past
And night time is fast
Approaching this land
And Batman can't stand.
The light bulbs come on
When daylight is gone.
The one over Kevin
Illuminates heaven.
He feels a great joy,
A knowledge-based high.
He outlines his plan
And they call him The Man.

The horse who fell
Races again in ten days.
The starter accepts
A small bribe, and it pays.

He uses a pistol
For starting this race.
The horse they backed moves
At a lightning-quick pace.

He wins by ten lengths.
He'd win with a cart.
The favourite is frozen
In fear at the start.

Uncle Hal's Party

2008-02-14T07:09:00.000-08:00

At parties thrown by Uncle Hal
The host is everybody's pal.
He's holier than thou until
A drop of drink ignites a thrill.

His halo-less unholiness
Can leave his house in quite a mess.
Women, lemon, lime and gin
And demons in a metal bin

That holds a haunted liquid
That would make you stick with coffee.
Some of those who drink it
Will believe their brains are toffee,

And this is leaving through their nose
And getting bogged down on their clothes.
Their brain keeps trying to get away
Despite attempts to make it stay.

They shove it up their nose again.
They take the bits stuck to their chin
And put them in a honey jar.
This goo is part of who they are.

Billy meets a woman who
Has held onto her head's grey goo,
Despite a vast amount of drink
Her brain remains and tries to think.

She can talk of plays and books
Until she uses nods and looks
And winks instead of sentences.
He finally gets the hint and says,

"Let's go out to get some air."
They go out to the garden where
They're all alone and silence reigns,
A state that baffles goo-based brains.

Ducks say 'quack'. They lack the words
To say 'We're most peculiar birds'.
But 'quack' will do. That's all they need.
Their books would not take long to read.

Cats meow and dogs say 'bow'.
Their wonder makes them add a 'wow'.
Cows say 'moo' and ghosts say 'boo'.
Owls will hoot while pigeons coo.

But Billy has no words at all.
He'd like to have a mating call,
Like Uncle Hal, who rings a bell.
He does a little dance as well.

Without a call to say 'Let's mate'
The silence is a life-less weight.
This makes him speak without a plan.
He says, "I ate a Lego man."

Half a second later they
Are moving quickly on their way
To find a place behind the shed.
The lawn will be their double bed.

They kiss with such explosive passion
That they surprise a passing Dachshund.
This is audible in his barks.
The 'wow's have exclamation marks.