Mi firstest poems wa’ yonks ago;

I’ve lost ’em (God be thankst!);

Full o’ trite naivety

An’ post-pubescent angst.

 

 

Some of them’s political

(I put the world to rights)

I solved starvation on mi own -

Right On! An’ Outta Sight!

 

 

I took to wearin’ neckerchiefs

As Byron could ‘ave once;

It din’t impress mi granddad -

It made me look a ponce.

 

 

I pined wi’ unrequited love

(I’d never ‘ad a shag!).

Mi ‘eart ‘ung ‘eavy wi’ chagrin -

Mi balls like saddlebags.

 

 

Owd up! I’ve found mi book o’ verse!

Still filled wi’ arrant pap.

On balance though I ‘ave to say

They beat this loada crap!