If I were a proper poet
I would write in Shakespearean
And constantly refer to Larkin
Every other line or so.

I would write poems
Far more angry than Plath
And show Hughes
How he should have wrote the Crow.

I would walk in the Sally Gardens
Every other lunchtime with Teats
And hug Tennyson as he crossed
Backwards and forwards on the bar.

I would give the Owl
And the Pussycat a motorboat
Before getting Milligan pissed so the
Ning Nang Nong became the Sing Sang Song.

If I were a proper poet
I would shake Owen by the hand
And stick Kipilings’s head
Into a cup of worms,

But I’m not
So I’ll just keep rambling
And write vague threats
To Armitage and Duffy.