Poetic Delinquency

Poetic Delinquency

I knew a time of plenty,

Where I ate a feckless fruit.

Could not determine what I had,

So kicked the bastard in, to boot.

The 'Bard', oh so deserving,

Called me, 'a gobshite lad'.

For all I planned to savour,

Of a wordy fight of drunks, had.

Kick me' little knackers hard,

The boots of stomping warriors.

See if I care, you bloated fools,

I can have the 'gift of gab'.

Rebellion to the holy order,

Of lines and sonnets rhyme.

Has helped create a dementia,

To be solitary confined.

I see just what I'm doing,

Though couldn't care a toss !

For if you lot don't like it,

It will be your bleedin' loss !

I eat the last of Turkish delights,

When I tell, what is true.

Rich reason comes to satisfy,

Lyrically I'm as possessed as you.

Tall tales I can always tell,

Sending them up to holy hell.

Where nothing matters more than IT,

I alone deserve, to be full of $%it.........

But let's let, be-gone the bygones,

To share a laughing memory.

Delinquently I raise a toast,

What rhymes next, (hic) oh yeah. Dick Emery !

'An artistic folly, meant to harm no-one'.