There is abundance
blossoms all around me.
The aristocracy would have us believe
that we’re all ne’er do well,
a bunch that would thieve milk
there’s a lot of maybe’s in that.
when all else fails it’s a top hat and tails for a night at the opera or the races where horse faced women swim against the tide
I ride on a broomstick with a cat who is pig sick of this.
enough out there for us all to share in
no need to swim
follow my lead and feed in the troughs.
‘coughs and sneezes spread..’ disease is rampant, man the ramparts, archers take your bows.
Old England knows which side its scone is buttered on.
© 2016, John Smallshaw.