That Lovejoy
Now he was the boy
Please grace Sunday nights again
With mullet and white T shirt
He was a racing 'dead cert'
To get off with fair Lady Jane
This 'feelgood' escapism
Never brought criticism
Indeed the opposite was true
Now replacing neuralgia
I find deep nostalgia
Bring back Lovejoy and crew!
Eric dreamed of owning a Harley
But that Gimbert (aka Charlie)
Soon put a stop to that dream
Things got even darker
When the number one barker
Upped and left the dream team
But they chased after 'Tink'
And before he could think
They nabbed him and brought him back home
And with beret on head
Expressed regret to have fled
And cursed his wandering syndrome
Take me back to Norfolk
One again my antique luck
To try, and see if I succeed
And Lovejoy, with dark glasses
Will find some horse brasses
And sell at a price pre-agreed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem