Driving home down a Wiltshire avenue.
Past a stone age mound and a gypsy camp.
Thatched houses. The sign of a pub I knew.
A classic motor, on a garage ramp.
...
She said “I know you’ve a book of your own.
You can still go visit the library.”
Then, she must be offering me a loan.
She’s nice, so it won’t take bribery.
...
In the lunchtime bar of Jude The Obscure
Emma rocks Callum, her gorgeous baby boy.
He laughs with innocence that’s utterly pure.
Old boozers frowns turn to something like joy
...
In cold dark away from the cities bright,
with engine turned off, and blanket tight,
a lonely working trucker, sleeps tonight.
...
There is no rhyme for orange,
according to my mate Ange.
So, please, let your thoughts all range,
in old English good or strange,
...
If you're fed up with the tired old cliché,
bored dancing at the local palais,
if you want a place that's really risqué,
then drive out beyond the street lights and stray,
...
Remember happiness is rare and not a right
If you trust someone to share your day
Hold on to their love in the warm bed night
...
I’ve always worked for the greater good.
Of course Buckingham Palace know my name,
But I’ve never found parking at Abbey Wood
...
Can’t believe real life has ended so soon.
The nurse takes my bed pan with a fake smile
I’m watching repeats of Terry and June
...
No I am not a man to hold the stage.
My brains aren't overly endowed
I daydream quietly and write a page
...