I met a man with orange hair
The only thing - he wasn't there
He matched his hair with orange shoes
And pinstriped shirts made in Toulouse
With strides quite strident, stride he would
A bold flag bearer, bright shoe wearer
His golden locks matched orange socks
A pair of which could not be finer
If fly he could, then fly he would
To void his shoes from icky mud
And to this end he hopped instead
Gold flashes leaping from his head
He said he'd met Franz Ferdinand
The repetitious lyrics band
He wrote for them some words in sand
And picked out all the words which rhymed
With flashes leaping from his head
The band just laughed it could be said
They made no sound just gathered hay
No rhyme nor reason shone that day...
I asked him if his hair was dyed
The orange headed man replied
To match this rich and subtle blend
Radio-active dyes I use my friend
I lay them on both thick and fast
To make for sure that they might last
It caused me once to lose my mind
But in the frenzy thus I find
That if my hair was dark or fair
To counteract my eyes from glare
I'd need a green and pointy cap
The likes of which I do not have
It thus can make no sense to me
And that would be a tragedy
While I might be dazzled by this fare
I noticed then I wasn't there
So asked him if his shoes were real
He told me there and then with glee
Oh yes my friend I did a deal
I've purchased now two pairs for three
The last question that I had for him
Was if he knew he wasn't there
Then why the most elaborate looks
His face just grinned, he spoke with pride
I've mostly picked it up from books...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quite dramatic. It is funny too. I particularly like the simple wording. Cheers!