Cycling past buisness girls on his way through Camden town
between towering grey buildings and tourists that frown
The lights turns to red and like a one legged man at the curb
he drifts off to a land that to some, seems absurb
Where honey-eyed tales of piglet and Pooh
are driven by toads tooting, **** **** poo
Peddling along the reeling, rolling,rambeling road some drunkard guy made
on famiular BBC air waves his voice often played
Through rich green ridings, wild moor and dales
2-50 stands the church clock that so sweetly never fails
Hatless on Ilkley, bathed and bathed in York
tea-time fancies at Harrogate, whilst watching like some Kes pearched hawk
Nodding and humming to sounds of the Brighouse and Rastric bands
and still finding time to paddle a little,
on sun drenched Gigglewick sands
Red turns to green as he wobbles and peddles away down Boris's yellow brick road
To Settel, for supper with
Raty
Mole
Badger
and Toad
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 8:59 AM UTC
Cycling past buisness girls on his way through Camden town
between towering grey buildings and tourists that frown
The lights turns to red and like a one legged man at the curb
he drifts off to a land that to some, seems absurb
Where honey-eyed tales of piglet and Pooh
are driven by toads tooting, **** **** poo
Peddling along the reeling, rolling,rambeling road some drunkard guy made
on famiular BBC air waves his voice often played
Through rich green ridings, wild moor and dales
2-50 stands the church clock that so sweetly never fails
Hatless on Ilkley, bathed and bathed in York
tea-time fancies at Harrogate, whilst watching like some Kes pearched hawk
Nodding and humming to sounds of the Brighouse and Rastric bands
and still finding time to paddle a little,
on sun drenched Gigglewick sands
Red turns to green as he wobbles and peddles away down Boris's yellow brick road
To Settel, for supper with
Raty
Mole
Badger
and Toad