Thomas Vaughan Jones
Thomas Vaughan Jones Poems
- Oh! To Be In April! You can always tell it's April By the ...
- An Old Sailor's Prayer Bring on the Pilot, cast off the ...
- Tiger, Tiger, Sparkling Bright... (With apologies to William ...
- Tiger On The Prowl The Tiger flicked his whiskers and he ...
- The Male Chauvinist Parrot Percy the Parrot, so pompous and ...
- Forty Seven Years We met in nineteen fifty five and never ...
- Poor Old William (Wordsworth) He wandered lonely as a ...
Thomas Vaughan Jones was born in Liverpool, is indisputably Celtic and has those characteristics which include a deep sense of melancholy (hiraeth) for the land of his fathers, and a sense of humour which prevents him writing anything even remotely serious. Unless of course, he is discussing Love or Death, which is an entirely different matter.
Tom began his adult career as a professional soldier in the British Army on the Rhine, where he became a regimental signal instructor and fell in love with countless Aryan maidens. After a fairly short military career, it was a logical step to become a Firefighter, where in the course of thirty years he rose to the rank of Supervisory ... more »
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Comments about Thomas Vaughan Jones
Oh! To Be In April!
(in England, that is)
You can always tell it's April
By the sound of falling rain
That mystic, mournful music
As it trickles down the drain.
We're told we should be thankful
For the kiss of April showers
As it washes all the grass clean
And prepares the soil for flowers.
There's another side to April
Which doesn't bode us good,
When that mini, manic maelstrom
Turns the lawn to liquid mud.
When mice hide under hedges
And hedgehogs take to ground,
The birds are wet and hungry,
The worms have all been drowned.
Within a ...