george - letter to santa - will he deliver or wham 02.12.17
innocence is wonderful
its as refreshing as a fanta
the coke lorry may be colorful
george no's its not the real santa.
brought up like a example
us common people should heed
not often this george i poetry sample
wham in my village is no longer a read.
we all see your excitement
at this age santa is the universe
all non believers face a terrible indictment
with you all like Scrooge i curse.
praying santa does deliver
his CV is gold and vintage
remembering wham will create a shiver
we will never forget "last christmas" in my village.
metro news i do thank
on this story was a gorge
christmas day for all adults will always skank
because its the day we all lost our beautiful george.
Can we request poems?
praying santa does deliver
Just Turkey I think.
Poemtrack - you should be out riding your bike rather than wasting time on here!
caps for scrooge and
cv
very sloppy
try harder
I do ride - this is how I get inspiration 😆
I do ride - this is how I get inspiration 😆
jimjam - what did you have in mind ?
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
[i]" . . . you should be out riding your bike rather than wasting time on here!"[/i]
I think that applies to most of us, Cinnamon Girl 😳