I met a gorilla
Gardener
In a jungle
Of native species

She kept her oxeye
Daisy on me the whole time

A cowslips past unnoticed
By the blush red columbine

Lily of the valley was
Sporting a fox’s glove

The cornflower and the cardinal
Seek guidance from above

A swamp of soured milk weeds
Seeps past your eyes

The firmly rooted ragged robin
Looks up awestruck at the skies

The bergamot was wild
Running circles round the yarrow

Black eyed Susan moped along
With her bluebell filled wheelbarrow

Good dogwood sets paw after paw
Creeping through the common nettle

As lance-leaved coreopsis
Charges in to test his mettle

I left a gorilla
Gardening
In a jungle
Of native species

Boris Johnson is PM
I beg your pardon
Come again?
Boris Johnson is PM

Let’s assume that I’ve misheard
What I’m hearing sounds absurd
I can’t believe a single word
Boris Johnson is PM

Boris Johnson is PM
Calm yourself, count to ten
Close your eyes, read it again
Boris Johnson is PM

I implore you please say you misspoke
Is this some cruel disheveled joke?
Democracy gone up in smoke
Boris Johnson is PM

Boris Johnson is PM
Watermelon smiles in number ten
Chant it to the garden bridge and back again
Boris Johnson is PM
Boris Johnson is PM
Boris Johnson is PM

There was once a young girl named Betty
Who watched the boats sail from her jetty
She sometimes got wet
Splashed by a fisherman’s net
That soggy little sailor our Betty
——————————————-
The intrepid explorer known as Betty
Set off in search of the yeti
She looked high and low
With Lucy and Joe
Then showered the beast with confetti
——————————————
Cooking up a storm with Betty
Her speciality is scrumptious spaghetti
We’ll wolf it all down
She’ll feed half the town
Then wash it down with a Birra Moretti
——————————————-
Have you seen that beauty called Betty?
It was love just as soon as she met me
A head of silk hair
An inquisitive stare
I would eat her if only she’d let me

Laurence Stephen feeling lowly
Lonely as the sea
Sits watching the matchstick crowds go by

He isn't going to the match
Or the mill

He's in his back room
With imagined ladies and Bellini