Wednesday, 16 February 2011


I was reminded of this poem the other day. I may want it at my funeral.

With apologies to William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time for underwear.

No time to fasten trousers on
Nor ward the cold with thick long john.

No time for laces, well might we crow,
When shoes are quicker with velcro.

No time to tie, a broad fat kipper,
No time to don the plump plaid slipper.

No time to gawp at Beauty's glance,
And watch her in her underpants.

No time to wait till jacket’s buttoned
To see our lamb securely muttoned.

A poor life this if, just to scan,
We have to shop at Matalan.

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