He professed he was a professor
He knew all the flowers by name
The greater stitchwort from the lesser
Deadly nightshade and alpine fleabane
He said he would build her an Eden
The envy of all learned men
To find the plants they would be needing
They walked on field, hill and fen
He said it would be just like ground force
He told her to stay out of sight
He said it would cost her of course
He vanished into the night
If ever you meet with this fellow
And get filled with botanical cravings
It's for the police you should bellow
And hang on to your jewels and life savings
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
The pale horse leaves a deathly swathe
as through our ranks he ramps and raves.
No time to bury the rotting reminders
of manky motionless mounds of men
Puffed with disease and certain to find us
Widespread, worrying, wondering when....
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 8:53 AM UTC