He’s got a bagel on his head,
Not a Cornish Pastie, nor a slice of bread;

Not a Singin’ Hinny, nor a Bacon Roll,
Not Bedfordshire Clanger nor Toad-in-the-Hole;

Black Buns from Scotland pass him by,
No Jammy Rascals, nor Stargazy Pie;

No Bakewell Tarts, and no Teisen Lap,
No Apple Dumplings adorn his cap;

No scones from Devon spread with cream and jam;
Just a crispy bagel full of cheese and ham.

Bagels are the coolest, bagels are the best:
Up with the bagels and down with the rest.
Onwards and upwards, long may it be said:
He’s got a bagel on his head.

He’s got a bagel on his head (February 28 2017).
He’s got a bagel on his head,
Not a Cornish Pastie, nor a slice of bread;

Not a Singin’ Hinny, nor a Bacon Roll,
Not Bedfordshire Clanger nor Toad-in-the-Hole;

Black Buns from Scotland pass him by,
No Jammy Rascals, nor Stargazy Pie;

No Bakewell Tarts, and no Teisen Lap,
No Apple Dumplings adorn his cap;

No scones from Devon spread with cream and jam;
Just a crispy bagel full of cheese and ham.

Bagels are the coolest, bagels are the best:
Up with the bagels and down with the rest.
Onwards and upwards, long may it be said:
He’s got a bagel on his head.

He’s got a bagel on his head (February 28 2017).
He’s got a bagel on his head,
Not a Cornish Pastie, nor a slice of bread;

Not a Singin’ Hinny, nor a Bacon Roll,
Not Bedfordshire Clanger nor Toad-in-the-Hole;

Black Buns from Scotland pass him by,
No Jammy Rascals, nor Stargazy Pie;

No Bakewell Tarts, and no Teisen Lap,
No Apple Dumplings adorn his cap;

No scones from Devon spread with cream and jam;
Just a crispy bagel full of cheese and ham.

Bagels are the coolest, bagels are the best:
Up with the bagels and down with the rest.
Onwards and upwards, long may it be said:
He’s got a bagel on his head.

The red briny sea longs for the sky, the land
But she cannot touch either; she fizzes secretly with jealousy
That men may breathe the air and tread sod.
The sea has seen many things; tossed longboats, cloaked monsters,
Heard trojan song. She does not tell.
There is too much of her to count or chart,
At night she bathes the sun, and when morning comes
She hangs it out to dry.
By day she watches placidly, smooths treacherous rocks.
The sea smiles as she watches the fisherman at his table,
Through the little window that faces the bay,
Eating his stargazy pie.

One wild
And starry, starry, night
Above my head
Where i lay
Within my lying bed
With curtains
And legs
All askew
The moon
Cast its shadows
Of a different hue
As hormone levels
Like the tides
Ebbed, and flowed
My stargazy eyes
Glistened
With anticipation
Beneath the pulsing moon
Aroused curiosities
That all to soon
I was floating
And drifting
Into the night sky
Now, no longer
Feeling shy
As moistened memories
Awakened my soul
I needed not
To cajole, my whole
As i drifted off
To a special place
Revealed only
By the look of ecstacy
Upon my face

by Jemia