Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Mill to mill a bitter pill this treadmill that we're led to and from mill to mill we will always be candy for the mills of society they gab in the background about Christmas, alas no Christmas for me the foreman has told me to work that day and no turkey shall I see cold ham and pickle with cheese and a tickle of trout lightly poached (nightly poached) from the river that runs through his Lordship's land and yes I bite the hand that feeds me for it's the same hand that needs me in mill to mill when will it all end.
0
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
Lancashire clatter
Mill to mill a bitter pill this treadmill that we're led to and from mill to mill we will always be candy for the mills of society they gab in the background about Christmas, alas no Christmas for me the foreman has told me to work that day and no turkey shall I see cold ham and pickle with cheese and a tickle of trout lightly poached (nightly poached) from the river that runs through his Lordship's land and yes I bite the hand that feeds me for it's the same hand that needs me in mill to mill when will it all end.
john-edward-smallshaw
Written by
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem