When the pen takes control.

A cloak of mistrust

falls upon the human race

death hides in the crowd

There was a young lady called Barbara,

went for a trip to Scarborough,

alone on the Helter-skelter

she was sad that no-one had felt her

behind or offered to carry her camera

Dancing flies rise on the warm air,

one bite enough to make you itch.

So listen for their telltale pitch,

a siren warning they are there.

Attacking those who don’t take care,

even when dressed in fabric thin

may find red lumps upon their skin.

Spots that can be soothed by tinctures

thinking that God made such creatures

perhaps as punishment for sin.

Young Fergus was a bullock

A highland bull was he,

Like any other fine bullock

as proud as punch to be

out in the field, tossing

his head, so all the girls could see

while looking for a lover,

think, he’s the one for me

But they were all in for a shock

as he would soon be dinner or tea.

First appearance, slight

enraged, an awesome power

might of a mother

The cottage at the end of the street

had a thatched roof incredibly neat

though the walls were stained brown

and the old fence was falling down

the windows were a positive treat.

Plenty of allusions to Shakin’ Stevens hits in this picture, see if you too can spot them….

Mary Roberts was oh so glad

the boy she loved would be back soon

tomorrow in the afternoon

when he returned from Trinidad.

Then they would ask her Mum and Dad

if they were happy for the two

to live together somewhere new

maybe in the future married,

forget about grudges carried

due to his Caribbean roots.

Having lost his wand

Houdini uses a stick

but the trick still works

Thought I’d put one in for

FOTD – April 21 – Waterlily