Grant Stevenson Poems

I fall to the floor like over ripe fruit from a tree
Slightly rotten, ignorant and in need of replication
Mind in desolate isolation
I carry on in unfettered degradation
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To catch a sneaky Horn Swaggler
You gotta be ever so crafty
Be careful not to anger them
Cos they get rather nasty
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I once saw a Gesticulating Frenchman
While abroad on holiday
I think he was trying to get across
Just what he had to say
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Grab a Grunch ‘O, Grapple Grunts
You can take em by the tail
Grab a Grunch ‘O’ Grapple Grunts
However they might flail
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Oh Little Frog, Oh Little Frog
I love you so completely
I love to see you sitting there
On the lily pad so neatly
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Over fields of barley, and of maze,
We shall walk in lovers gaze,
Hand in hand all through the days,
We shall walk together.
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