A rainbow arcs across the sky,
Colours vivid, reaching high.
Richard Of York, a name we hear,
In battles fought with mortal fear.

Red as the blood of sacrifice,
Orange with fire, without a price.
Yellow as the sun’s warm light,
Green, the earth, in springtime’s sight.
Blue as the sea, calm and deep,
Indigo, twilight's gentle sweep.
Violet, the night’s serene embrace,
Each hue, a promise of God’s grace.

Richard of York gave battle in vain,
His name in history to remain.
A spectrum bright, from red to end,
In rainbow’s arc, a message penned.

God’s covenant with man was sealed,
In rainbows after storms revealed.
His promises, a hope profound,
In heaven’s bow, their truth is found.

For every tear and every storm,
A promise, bright and true, is born.
In rainbows’ glow, we see His love,
A gift bestowed from high above.

Richard’s tale, though filled with strife,
Reminds us of the colours’ life.
In every battle, joy or pain,
A rainbow follows every rain.

So, look up when the storm has passed,
And find in rainbows, hope at last.
Richard of York, though battles fought,
In heaven’s bow, a lesson sought.

Oh, the morning after, shadows cast,
From night's wild revelry, now long past.
Echoes of laughter, distant as they roar,
In dawn's silent light, they are no more.

Eyes heavy, with heart weighed down so low,
Remnants of joy now turn into sorrow.
The taste of regret, bitter, chilling cold,
Under morning's harsh light, tales unfold.

Memories blur, like dreams in fog's embrace,
What once shone bright, now loses its grace.
The night before, a fleeting, thrilling high,
Leaves voids within, a deep, exhausted sigh.

A pounding headache, each thump a stark ache,
Reminders of all choices we did make.
The evening's fleeting joy, the night's allure,
Now morphs to silence, nothing remains pure.

In the morning after, with solemn tone,
Facing harsh truths in this early light alone.
The cost of fun, of choices too unwise,
A lesson learned in painful morning skies.

Yet in this pain, a chance to grow anew,
A wisdom gained that only dawn could view.
The morning after, though it brings its sting,
Lays down the path for new beginnings.

In the land of Chile, far and wide,
There grew a chilli, filled with pride.
But this wasn't just any spice,
Its tale, my friend, is quite precise.

From Mexico, the seeds did roam,
Across the seas to find a home.
They landed in the Andes' care,
In Chile's soil, rich and rare.

The chilli grew, with zest and zing,
But felt a chill in early spring.
It shivered in the mountain air,
A chilli's fate, oh quite unfair!

"A Mexican chilli," it declared with cheer,
"Should be warm and full of fiery cheer!
But here I am in Chile's breeze,
Chilly and cold, I want to freeze!"

The farmers laughed and wrapped it tight,
In blankets warm, a funny sight.
They whispered tales to keep it warm,
Of sunlit days and summer's charm.

The chilli dreamed of spicy dishes,
Of tacos, salsas, all its wishes.
But in the Andes' chilly hold,
It felt its dreams were getting cold.

One day it met a cactus bold,
Who said, "Dear chilli, do be told,
In Chile's cold, you'll find your spark,
A chilly chilli, leaves a mark."

The chilli laughed and found its place,
In soups and stews, a warming grace.
For even in the coldest climes,
A chilli's spice can charm at times.

So next time you taste a fiery bite,
Remember the chilli's chilly plight.
From Mexico to Chile's crest,
A chilly chilli can be the best!

Leg ends on the road, they wibble and wobble,
Dancing in the moonlight, they giggle and gobble.
They chase the shadows, hop and skip,
With a flip-flop, they never trip.

Wiggly-waggly, to and fro,
Leg ends travel, where do they go?
Through fields of jelly and pudding hills,
They sing with glee and joyful thrills.

Tickling tulips and teasing trees,
Leg ends float on the evening breeze.
Munching on moonbeams, sipping stars,
They journey far in flying cars.

In a land where the silly meets the sweet,
Leg ends on the road never miss a beat.
With laughter loud and smiles so wide,
Their nonsense dance is a magical ride.

And as they wander, tales unfold,
Leg ends transform to legends bold.
A misheard word, a laugh it sends,
When "leg ends" are heard in place of "legends."

Johnny Cash, the Man in Black,
With a voice that told of every track.
From Folsom Prison to Ring of Fire,
His songs of life never tire.

Willie Nelson, with timeless grace,
His guitar and voice set the pace.
On the road again, his music flows,
A legend whose legacy grows

Waylon Jennings, with a rebel's heart,
His country songs, a work of art.
With a voice that defied the norm,
He weathered every storm.